The Yellow Door Life

As a writer, words are kind of my thing. 

Not all day every day, but most of the time I can find the words I need. 

There are times though that words escape me when I need them most. 

I spent a lot of time fighting with my parents when I was young. Being an only child has a lot of drawbacks and when you’re the only one, all that parental attention gets focused on you. And it’s a pain. I also had to bear the burden of listening to their arguments alone and that takes its own toll. 

I grew up knowing on some level that my parents weren’t actually in love and while it hurt me, as I knew it hurt them, I figured that was just the way things were. Not everyone gets a fairytale ending. Which only made me want one more. 

As I have matured *ahem* I have learned that fairytale doesn’t mean perfect, and knights on white horses are just as good as cowboys with trucks. And there is no happily ever after, just real people, loving each other and working toward real goals. 

I hoped that’s what I was getting into with my marriage, but I was mistaken. I agreed to marry someone who didn’t share my beliefs (some of which I didn’t know beforehand), and he married someone whose words he could not appreciate. 

I’m a writer and I spent nearly a decade hardly writing at all. There was no inspiration. I have a handful of things I wrote during that time, most of which came around the time my Dad’s health began to decline. Then when I got my diagnosis, it was like I got the ultimate greenlight. God was saying, “Here kid, you’ve made all the bad choices, let me stop you before you wreck yourself completely. It’s time to start making the good ones.”

I married a man who wasn’t interested in reading what I wrote, my Dad died before he ever got to, and now I sit alone in a hotel room writing about the hope that I won’t be alone forever. 

Over the last couple years, I have regained my voice and found the words I need to describe so many things. From my healing process to the beauty I have found in reconnecting with nature, the words always come now that I let them. 

Words have always been my safety net. When I feel like I can’t show up physically as myself, I write about it. It helps me channel my energy. It’s helped me get through this period of aloneness. 

The problem with being alone all the time though is you get good at it. You don’t expect anything, or anyone, to surprise you. You are alone and most days you like it that way.

The last few years have messed with my social skills. From COVID and working alone in an office, to taking a remote job, I literally stopped being around people. I was in an unhappy marriage with someone who didn’t like to socialize so I never went out. I kept trying to grow, while making myself smaller and smaller to fit into this world that was never meant for me. 

As I have emerged from that shell over the last year, I have to constantly remind myself that I’m on a path to not only bettering myself and moving forward, but creating a life with people who were always meant to be in my life. And that is scary. Especially for someone who has been in a codependent relationship. Trusting people is like remembering how to ride a bike. I can still do it, but I figure I’m going to fall on my ass a few times before getting it right. 

Not too long ago, I was around someone who brought inspiration out in me. This person reminded me of who I used to be before I completely lost sight of who I am. It felt so odd to actually have a conversation with someone who was interested in what I was doing, had no judgment about me, and made me laugh. I had spent so many years in a relationship that squashed who I was to make room for who he was, that I genuinely think I forgot that most people aren’t here to make me small. They aren’t here to stamp out my light. You would think by now I would know that, but it wasn’t till I was around this person that I remembered. 

Some people have a special presence and light in this world, and at least for me, I can’t think straight around people with that kind of energy. It makes me nervous, not because I don’t like it, but because it’s so rare and striking. It makes me nervous because I want to show up that way and often feel like I can’t. In spending time with this person, I had a million questions I wanted to ask, but never did. I had stories to tell and jokes to make and things I wanted to say, but didn’t. I got lost in the way this person spoke, and laughed, and looked at me like I actually mattered. I had forgotten what that was like. I want to be like that. Not to command a whole crowd’s attention, but rather give it so specifically to a person that he/she is reminded of his/her worth. 

That’s been missing from my life for awhile, genuine conversations, and there I go being so wrapped up in how wonderfully this person engaged in one, that I couldn’t even get words out of my mouth. Looking back now, it must have come off as rude, or disinterested, which I deeply regret, as those interactions changed me. I just hope I get the chance to tell this person myself how much it meant to me.

(I’m telling y’all, you get moments, MOMENTS, in life that absolutely change you and you have to take advantage of each and every one. Don’t be too scared to say what you need to say. Even if you make an ass of yourself. Looking like an ass is less painful than regretting not looking like one later). 

It reminded me that I was never meant to be alone permanently. I need friends and family. I need to laugh and celebrate life as it’s happening now, not how I imagine it will be in the future. 

Being alone is important, we all need that solitude once and awhile. Key words here being once and awhile. We aren’t meant to be alone permanently. God put us here to be with people. To love and support each other. I’ve gotten so good at being alone that I fear I’ve actually gotten worse at being around people. 

Now that I’ve seen both ends of the spectrum, I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s time to end the purposeful aloneness. Now, I can’t snap my fingers and make my family appear, but I do hope that in doing the work that was necessary alone, I can move into the phase of life where I can have my people, make time for myself, and not be afraid to show up as me. Every second of every day. And in every conversation. 

I wrote this blog while in Chattanooga over the last few days, the next chapter in Emily’s road trip life, and as I drove home down a small Tennessee highway, Desperado came on the radio and I was reminded just exactly why I needed to say all of this. 

Desperado, woah, you ain’t gettin’ no younger

Your pain and your hunger, they’re drivin’ you home

And freedom, oh, freedom, well, that’s just some people talkin’

Your prison is walkin’ through this world all alone

Aloneness is a season y’all. Not a lifestyle. 

Get good at it. Know how to do it. Be comfortable doing it. But then let people in. 

All the people who are meant to be in your life. God put them on your path for a reason. New people. People from your past. Even if you never thought they would be on your path. Figure out why they are. 

My life has come full circle in so many ways and it’s been eye opening and heart wrenching and just plain surprising. Having the words trapped inside is just as bad as any disease, so let ‘em go and let ‘em fly. If they land and don’t take root, don’t worry, because someday they will, you just have to find the right people to speak them to, but you have to start somewhere. 

Speak your truth and follow your heart, that’s all there really is.