In the Weeds, Before I Learned Civility

I've been coming to terms with being really lonely lately. In the sense that, I don't exist in the world that others exist in.

In the sense that, I am isolated in my thoughts and experiences. 

In the sense that, others go about their lives without pondering their purpose and the meaning of every little thing that happens in the world. 

Taylor Swift's new album brought warmth and a fortress for my isolation. 

For some reason - a woman I've never met appears to know me better than maybe any other human being. She is willing to relate to, join me in, and experience the things that I believed were unique to my own lonely, somber and sometimes dark soul.

And yet, she goes there. With you. 

I've been wondering - is this because we are the only two people on the whole planet who think like this? This is impossible. There is no way me and Taylor Swift have this unique connection that not a single soul in the world shares. I think it's because people aren't willing to talk about these things. I believe that everyone who listened to this album, even if they didn't understand the feeling, felt a little bit safer or understood, even if in secret.

Over some forsaken period of time between childhood and whatever we became after that, the world dug holes in our souls to shovel dirt over to keep the truth of our deepest human desires, fears, and thoughts squelched. Our souls are hidden. 

"Please picture me, in the weeds, before I learned civility," (Seven)

before society taught us to hide truth and communicate in some shallow language, that codes for feelings with meanings long forgotten. We give the subtlest clues and hints of the truth we long for through our tones, our behaviors, the way we interact with ourselves and the world.

Why are we so afraid to ask real questions? Why are we so afraid to share our fears, our true intentions, the reasons we keep going every day and the reasons we don't follow our dreams?

My favorite lyrics from her new album come from the song "This is Me Trying," which I felt like was written about my own life. I'll only share some of them to not make this TOO long.

"I've been having a hard time adjusting, had the shiniest wheels now they're rusting" (This is Me Trying)

Do you ever feel like your life is a constant act of you trying to adjust? To yourself, others, and your surroundings? 

I feel that way every day. It's hard to act naturally when half your mind and energy are focused on figuring out how to survive in a constantly changing life and environment. Especially when you used to adapt by coping in maladaptive ways.

I had the shiniest wheels, but they've been rusting for years now. I used to spring with life, and at some point in time a more somber tone overcame me, some dementor-like thing sucked most of it out of me. What was that?

"I didn't know if you'd care that I came back, I have a lot of regrets about that" (This is Me Trying)

I have so many regrets. Daily, I lament over those who were left behind during the time I lost myself (or found myself?), that they will not care or remember me now that my soul has returned to its shell, in my body on this earth.  When I went missing the years I spent in hospitals, learning and unlearning, searching and hiding. 

"Every time you call me crazy I get more crazy, every time you call me angry I get more angry" (Mad Woman)

This is a different song but it ties in - I always wonder if people know that the more they deny my truth the more desperate I become to be validated for it. This is true for everyone. People stand on the ground trying to tell you to come back down to earth, when in reality - they need to meet you in the sky. There is so much more than the surface that people are unwilling to consider. What has ever been solved with telling someone there's something wrong with them? Why do we call people crazy when they don't cope in the same maladaptive ways that we do? (I consider pretending things are normal when they aren't "maladaptive" just as much as misusing alcohol or drugs or an eating disorder even though the effects are different).

"My words shoot to kill when I'm mad, I have a lot of regrets about that" (This is Me Trying)

This explains itself. Every regret I have comes from things I've said in my 10/10 emotion, that I will never be able to reverse. It’s what I hate most about myself.

And when I get called crazy, my words become angrier, and more deadly. 

…I’m trying to grow.

"They told me all of my cages were mental, so I got wasted like all my potential." (This is Me Trying)

My cages were mental...which also can be written off as "mental."

I wasted myself and my potential as I gave in, every single day, to the voices telling me I was going to be wasted anyway. Trusting I would never make it in college. Trusting my capacity for friendship was limited to simple acquaintances. Trusting no one would help me fight for my life long enough to actually see me recover. Trusting my worth was defined by others' belief in my ability to succeed in life or recovery - and their willingness to walk with me. Trusting that I couldn't find value inside of myself.

"Fell behind all my classmates, and I ended up here. Pouring out my heart to a stranger but I didn't pour the whiskey" (This is Me Trying)

I'm way behind my high school classmates, academically right now. I've found myself pouring my heart out to strangers - random doctors, therapists, completely random humans from all walks of life in a facility trying to figure out how to function after whatever traumas they've endured and all coming to terms themselves to their ways of squelching their souls - or because someone forced them to. In an odd way - we are all the lucky ones because we figured out the facade. We had people telling us we need to dig deeper to survive in this life.

Funny as it is though, once I was able to be honest, I was no longer "pouring the whiskey," I was more able to give up the things I was using to cope (like my anorexia) because being understood, connecting, people listening - the truth itself takes away the need to destroy ourselves in order to tolerate existing. Often times we would rather destroy ourselves than accept the risks of vulnerability in expressing the truth to another human being. I’d gamble to say, the risk of isolation is far worse than any possible negative outcome of sharing the truth. Even if it isn’t accepted, you are accepting yourself the first time you admit it.

In the song Illicit affairs Taylor says, 

"It shows it's truth one single time then it lies and it lies and it lies, a million little times."

I think this relates to any addiction. Not just addictions, but subtle lifestyle habits. At least it was shoved in my face that I'm being lied to with my eating disorder. What about everyone else?

All those people with friends who get them to drink themselves out of thinking the things they fear about life? 

Who get high off of drama to avoid internal trauma? 

Who laugh at jokes that are sexual harassment loud enough to hide the 2 feet that they would feel themselves shrinking if they didn't...whether they know it or not?

Searching for fulfillment in sex or alcohol or porn or work/success or taking crazy risks or finding themselves so self absorbed in working out and eating a "healthy" diet and their bodies and getting boys to want to touch them and vie for their attention from just looking at them - where society accepts all of these things as completely normal and desirable, while it buries our souls even deeper because fulfillment can't come from anywhere that exists outside of ourselves? The issue rises when we use it to fulfill ourselves, which happens very subtly.

What, in your life, has been lying to you a million little times? And why can't we be honest about the truth of it all? 

I'll tell you what's been lying to me. Simple little things. It's the simple little things that are used to tear you down completely because they don't seem so wrong. The things that lie to you in bits and pieces every day until it becomes a core belief and value that neither you nor anyone else can see as abnormal or raise an eyebrow at. 

I thought that friends would make me believe I wasn't worthless or isolated. 

That exercise would bring me internal peace and happiness.

That there was actually a physical thing I could accomplish that would take away the hole in my soul or earn me worthiness to be amongst other humans. 

That boys wanting to touch me would make me worth something a little more than what I am - someone at least accepts my body, someone in this world wants me. 

These things brought me further away from the impossible goals I wanted them to achieve.

It's so dangerous to fall for something that gives you a high because of the tiny truth that was accompanied by a million little lies you kept believing and trusting would bring you to this truth again. 

"And it's hard to be at a party when you feel like an open wound." 

I am often a walking open wound. It's difficult to be anywhere when you aren't in your own skin or you have pain that can be activated by almost anything. You can't hide an open wound. How do people hide their open wounds? I so often wonder how many people have open wounds who are pretending their world hasn't fallen apart. How many people must feel isolated with others around them who experience the same exact same things and all just "act naturally." The room gets uncomfortable when someone says something honest. But inside you feel something warm - you feel safer knowing someone said something you could never. Why is our reaction to feeling more connected to others uncomfortability? And then trying to put a stop to it as quickly as possible, so as to not let that person embarrass themselves (or make you more uncomfortable). 

"I just wanted you to know, that this is my trying. At least I'm trying." (This is Me Trying)

"At least I'm trying" is like, my life motto. This is how I feel every day. Everywhere I go. I just want people to know that I'm trying. I want the people I love and have wronged to know I am coming back and trying every day, with every mistake I make, I'm trying. I'm trying to know better and do better. I want my soul to communicate with their soul so they can see how desperately I’m trying.  

This song is so beautiful to me. There is so much more to it but it yanks at my soul. Do you ever feel like you just want people to know that you're trying? Whenever you get something wrong something inside of you is burning and screaming "DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND I'M TRYING?!." You are giving everything you can to be in public and face the world inside of your skin and not create more regrets and try and pretend the old ones aren't there anymore.

There are so many of her lyrics and songs especially on this album that bring you into your own truth. God has used her to remind me of the lies I've continued falling for, and the world's ways of hushing us up and casting us out when we don't fit the mold that we don't even remember who created. This album reminds me that you don't need to belong here, in order to belong here. That the world's ways are crazy, not us. And if in fact we were crazy, it's likely from being invalidated by a world that's afraid of the truth (and women?). 

More than anything, I want to be remembered as the child I was before I learned how I was "supposed" to respond to the world. Before I started rusting. 

I hope that someday people will be willing to talk about what's underneath the codes they send. The first step is recognizing them. It concerned me that I thought someone I never met understood me more than most people in my life. I know there's something wrong with that. I think, the more uncomfortable we make people by speaking our truth, the more comfortable it will soon become - the safer people will feel existing in this world. 

THANK YOU TAYLOR SWIFT.