You change as the world changes. You feel as if you are running a race, a never-ending marathon up and down impossibly tall mountains. You try to slow down to catch your breath. Sometimes you want to stop. There is no stopping. The change continues, like a ball rolling down a hill, hurtling over everything in its path, changing direction without warning, propelled by its own inertia. You become a ball too, pulled along by your own relentless inertia. For better or for worse, you change.
The more I pushed the memories away, the more persistent they became. Alone, in the late hours of the night, I found myself searching for that fatal flaw. Maybe my life was too complicated. Maybe I wasn’t attractive enough. Maybe my job wasn’t good enough. Maybe I wasn’t funny, kind or fun enough. These thoughts were painful and unwanted. I needed to push them away, so I would pour myself a glass of whiskey and wait for the anger to come and with it, that sweet amnesia.
Over the next weeks, my life was busy, stressful and full of the tedious responsibilities of being an adult. I didn’t open my notebook back to that page where I had quickly scribbled “youth is wasted on the young”, but more often than not, the quote would appear when I closed my eyes, as I drifted off to sleep.
Little did I know that my ability to seek change depended on the stability of the world at large. In March, that sense of stability came crashing down and suddenly I found myself in a situation of change that was beyond my experience and above my pay grade.