I Came With The Hurricane, and I Will Go With It

Before I begin, here, play this:

 

Fiona Apple, "Why Try To Change Me Now?"

There are far too many things that I'd like to say, but cannot seem to articulate very well. I don't expect to be completely coherent, even as I have the time and the power to edit this piece, because I write from inside a tempest.

Some might call it mercury retrograde, but I am not one to completely credit the determination of my fate to the planets, especially not one as fiery and volatile as Mercury; it sits far too close to the sun to be reliable. Instead, it is the sum of all of my conscious, earthly decisions, taking the shape of not just a funnel, but a tornado.

Taking from my personal seasonal patterns, it seems that every so often, all the directional winds come together to create a perfect storm and take me for a whirl. Before the summer even ended and abruptly transitioned into habagat (southwest monsoon) I was already a step ahead; my season of great change started months ago, and all of it -- and I mean, ALL OF IT -- has built up to make landfall this week.

Boracay Island, in the middle of a storm. (c. January 2015)

I mean this quite literally: It has been a hell of a week. It is proving to be bittersweet, on the verge of heartbreaking, as I say goodbye to many things that I hold sacred, or have at least held sacred at some point. It's been a mix of saying goodbye to people; a job (the longest I've sustained); half of everything I own; habits (some good, some bad); places, and leaving them all at shore.

But these are physical goodbyes, and they hardly stop there. They sit on the surface, but are loaded with sentiment. This means leaving behind parts of myself that used to belong here, and to me, that don't quite fit in with the other pieces anymore: relationships; ideals; loves; what I used to want for myself; imagined notions of happiness, and the burnt-out parts of myself that were once ignited by what these notions used to be; behaviors; priorities; world views; a trapped mindset.

But I cannot deny that all these things have changed, nor can I deny this new person that is aching to break free. What she wants, and has always wanted, are crying out too loudly for me to still play deaf and dumb. And I will admit that it has been a painful process so far, to shed this skin, but I have barely begun. I never expected it to feel like I was mourning, but here we are.

If I am subscribing to the value of authenticity, then I owe it to myself to listen to what my heart has to say.  Her voice has been stifled for too long,and she is screaming for attention. Neither of us have felt like we've belonged where we have been situated, anyway. What makes her pound so hard that the rest of my body will jolt awake at 3 'o clock in the morning, and will not allow its return to sleep? What melts her rock to tears? What releases her butterflies?

And I know that many do not understand the decisions I've made -- why I needed to pull away and go (and maybe even go as far as burning a few bridges), why go so far, and why so abruptly. Rest assured, it has all been a matter of necessity, for the sake of self-preservation, among other things. It feels like the ripest time to wage war: against my comforts; my doubts and doubters; my fears; and the weight of my attachments, whether they be people or objects. Please do not get me wrong, I am terribly sad about most of it. But, now, more than ever, I have more means, courage, and a clearer sense of who I am and what I want. I can't change direction now. I can't lose focus now. Please accept this as my apology.

More than pleading for everyone to let me go, my biggest enemy is me: I have to let myself go. I realize that I am gambling it all, but I must detach -- be nomadic; loose; a free-radical; a gypsy. But at the end of the day, I will always know where my roots are, and I will forever be tethered to its land.

But for now I must go whirl in this tornado. And in the process, hopefully turn myself into a hurricane of a woman, too.