I am out with lanterns, looking for myself
“What's terrible is to pretend that second-rate is first-rate. To pretend that you don't need love when you do; or you like your work when you know quite well you're capable of better.”
― Doris Lessing, The Golden Notebook
September 27th, 2023
In January 1856, in a letter to Elizabeth Holland, Emily Dickinson wrote, “I am out with lanterns, looking for myself.” And in 2023, in this letter to you, I find myself consumed with those words. September always ushers me into a renaissance of self actualization. I find that my days become quieter, my eyes wider. I require less distraction altogether. I’m steadied, even focused. I recently finished season 1 of True Detective, and it’s made me wonder if I know myself.
At one point in the show, a character - Maggie Hart, talks about her ex-husband (Marty) and his ex-partner (Rust). She compares the two, saying “Rust knew exactly who he was, and there was no talking him out of it. Marty's single big problem was that he never really knew himself, so he never really knew what to want.”
I can’t get it out of my head. Do I know myself? Do I know what I want? It’s been 27 years of being me and I feel like as time carves new lines by my eyes, my uncertainty is only reinforced. But then I’m like, maybe I’m lying? Maybe I’m lying to myself and to you right now. Maybe I have known who I am for as long as I can remember, but I can’t tell you that - because then I’ll have to admit that I know exactly what I want. And what if I don’t get it? Then I have to what, be comfortable with that? Make peace with the acute reality that knowing what you want is not getting what you want?
I think I’ve always been this way. When I was definitively religious, I would never pray for a single thing to happen or work out the way I wanted. I would only ask for forgiveness and profess an intense gratitude for what had already come to be. And now, when I wish on birthday candles I echo a similar prayer.
It’s a fear I can’t seem to shake. But what am I afraid of exactly? Is it failure? Do I really believe that the act of wanting something and saying that I want it is suitable for others but unwarranted for myself? Who does my denial serve? I want to cut the bullshit so bad but I am so afraid. I am out with lanterns looking for myself.
Here are the facts. I am scared that I am wasting my time. I feel the minutes pass by me as I consume images from big screen to little screen from big screen to little screen. My vision is getting worse. I am scared I’ll never be a writer. I am scared that I already am one and this is just what it’s like. I am scared I’ll never be able to buy a house. I am scared that I will want something later that I don’t want now, but I won’t be ready for it. I am scared that I don’t read enough. I’m scared that I’m not a good friend, a good girlfriend, a good daughter, a good employee. I’m scared that I’m not the way I used to be - whatever that even means.
What if I look for myself and I find her? What if she tells me, I want to be loved. I want to be successful. I want a little cottage with a garden and my grandmother’s desk in the corner of a sunroom with a perfect little cushioned chair for me to write in. I want to always be surrounded by my friends and my family and I want them to never die. I want to get older and be old, but I also want to be beautiful. I want to be admired. I want to be funny and important. I want to be noticed. But I also want to be humble. I want to be kind. I want to feel enough even though everything is relentless. I want to write a book. I want to love exercising. I want to eat fresh foods with herbs and spices. I want someone to read this and tell me it makes sense and that they feel the same way but also that I’m so different and complex and that they could never understand how I feel.
September has come and is almost gone, and really I have no more excuses. On my birthday I stood in a room filled with people who already see me as the person I’ve been trying to find. And even if I didn’t make a wish, I know what I would have wished for. That’s close enough for now.
I’ve rambled on for too long and now there’s no more room for recommendations. But I hope you’re all reading and listening to beautiful things. Until next time.
