The Plunge

An extremely personal performance piece performed once and ruined by a tech person's glitch using iTunes. Had the speaker's intended recipient had any sense they would've run upon hearing this for the first time. Audio coming soon.



There’s something that you need to understand about me. There’s something that you need to understand about me that you don’t know. That you can’t possibly know. Every time you tell me something I don’t like hearing and I don’t get upset with you is a very new, good thing. If this had been me two years ago I would have mood swings and undulate hot and cold the minute you said something that irked me. That I tell you when I tell you that I’m upset is amazing. Even if I shrug you off and you have to ask- even better that you ask- that’s what you need to do! I would’ve hated to be that way for you but I didn’t know any better. Had to grow out of it. Had to take 2 and a half years to learn to be myself. Be fine unprompted. Be happy simple. Because I was with the same person from 15 to 18 I was basically the same from beginning to end. Let me explain that: I was the same emotionally and physically at each check point where I should have been developing. Birthdays, deaths of family members, report cards, AP’s, SATs, PSATs, PSSAs, whatever.
And by the same I mean that I would hear some offending words come into my brain, feel my gaze becoming steely, unfocused physically, laser accuracy mentally as a slow chill rolled down my back and across my shoulders, down the arms to my hands. Whole body ice bath; cold; changed. Like that, within a matter of 30 seconds. And I’d feel it coming, I would think I’d try to fight it but I think I was fascinated by the resolve of that wave, that ebb like an undertow could suck you straight down when you thought you had control. But you didn’t.
I said no milestones changed me, not even the deaths of family members but one did. One created such a release it reminds me now of how I felt during the build up. Plugged up. After my grandmother died we were all in a low cool stasis for a while. Poppy got laid off and didn’t work for almost a year. Cooked a lot, watched Court TV. But slowly that disconnect and discomfort I felt for so long thawed and I remembered how close we used to be. At my grandmother’s funeral I bounded around the room and laughed so hard with everyone. Afterwards I felt terrible about it but it was because it was the first time the family had all been together in seven years and no one was worried Nanny was suffering anymore.
Maybe that time has passed. I like to think every time that I just open my mouth, take a breath and smile at you with clear eyes when you spring something on me rather than yelling and feeling betrayed is a small victory. For me, for us, for the sake of sanity in the world. The ability for me to apply to you at all what I’m feeling, to mew it out sweetly, honestly, rather than contorted with malice and mistrust; to sit and listen to you at all rather than turn over and swat you away; the revelation to at all let rationality and empathy enter my head and bear my chest bare to a possible onslaught with faith alone in you is, well, my gift to you, to put it selfishly. That’s not to say that you should be humbled or amazed by this admission but merely that you need to understand where I’ve been and where I’ve allowed you to take me in a very short time.
I brought myself part way out, dipped my toe in but you clutched my hand and jumped into the water with me. And it’s not cold; my feet don’t hit the steely bottom. I float unfocused but lucid to the top, pick my head up to breathe and feel the cool I quickly adjust to roll down my back and across my shoulders down my arms to my hands. Cool, changed. Like that, within a matter of 30 seconds, the incredible trust you’ve earned since you were honest with me.
So that’s the way it is. I just wanted to tell you that I can’t help but look you in the eye and accept how you feel even if you can’t stare me down when you say it.