Open Letter to Marc Maron, Day 30 (on beginnings, endings + buyer’s remorse)

…I just needed to write that down, to remind myself that sometimes my real work doesn’t look like work at all. Yet the end result is far more profound than a basket full of clean sheets or a fridge full of food. Though those are nice too.

Just two more days and I don’t really know what to write or how I will say good-bye tomorrow. How do you end something like this? How do you put a full stop on it? I’m a woman who still has crime scene tape around her childhood and is going over it minute by minute on my hands and knees, my eyes pressed to not one but two magnifying glasses. This is not the image of a woman who knows how to end things.

I walk away from things, sure, but I don’t really end them. I have buyer’s remorse for ending that unhealthy friendship that undermined me. I have buyer’s remorse for trying to end that unhealthy habit (drinking too much, eating too much, passive-agressiving too much) before it ends me. I don’t like change. There’s no safety in change. We all say there’s a beginning after every ending, but what if the next time something ends, it turns out we’re wrong. There’s only a beginning after most endings, and this time we’re shit out of luck. What’s the use of beginnings anyway? Why not cut straight to the part where everything works out or it doesn’t?

I’m contradicting myself, but really that’s the only thing I know for sure. I’m a believer and I’m not a believer. I’m a liar and I tell the truth every single time. My parents wrecked the shit out of me and my parents gave me so much that’s good about me. I’m “and” and I’m “or.” Everything does work out and nothing works out at all. I am the woman who’s been writing this for 30 days and shoving into everyone’s faces like it matters, and I am the woman who’s going to refuse to look at it again once I hit “publish” on day 31. Perhaps I’ll be an entirely different woman the day after that. This version of me will be ended and the one that starts the day after, who knows how she’ll turn out? Where she’ll pick up the thread, where she’ll take the scissors and just like that—snip!—let it go.

To be continued…

Posted on February 17, 2015, in Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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