Red Hands White Knuckles

I read an interesting article on denial and it really struck a cord with me. Basically the gist was this: people use denial as a defensive mechanism. We think that by burying our feelings about whatever subject will alter reality. Instead by living in denial we unknowingly create this weight that hangs around on us until we address whatever it is we've been trying to hide. Feelings are meant to be felt basically, and as soon as you acknowledge them you can move on. So the next few weeks I'm going to be digging up some things that have been bothering me for quite a while. It's going to be deep, it's going to be dark, but it needs to happen.

Recently my parents brought up the last few boxes that I've had stashed in their basement since my first attempt to move out way back in 2005. Those boxes have been moved all over the place, and gradually things have made their way to the trash but there is still a whole bunch of stuff buried in them that I've been going through. Every time we move I go through an epic purging of junk and I still have so many boxes full of randomness it's kind of bordering on hoarding. Actually I think it's just because every time I've moved in the past several years with the exception of this last time has been in a giant rush.

The first time I moved out I was 18 and angry at my parents because I was 18. So after a whole host of teenage angst, I was pretty much done with living with my parents, and legally able to do something about it. It was kind of a big rushed sort of grab a few important things but never really officially finish moving everything out of my parents house, because I didn't really HAVE much. Just the pointless trivial things you have when you're a teen still living with your parents. The living situation I moved into was another hasty decision, again because I was 18 and still trying to figure out how the world worked. I wasn't completely innocent or ignorant, but I was young, headstrong, and oh so determined to prove people wrong. I moved in with a boy. Well he wasn't a boy, he was 25, but he was funny, and he was on my side in the Great War Against Parents, which was new. I'd never really had anyone on my side before, and he was kind of cute. Arrogant, VERY arrogant, but also vulnerable and easy to talk to about anything and everything. In fact more often than not he MADE me talk about things that up until my time with him I would have kept buried deep inside destroying myself from the inside out. I was a very closed and guarded person once upon a time not really by choice, but more my circumstance. I have made the mistake of baring my soul to the wrong people more than once, and the only way I had learned to cope was to sit back, take the abuse and try to forget about it. It had been going on for so long and there was so much pent up hostility and rage it was literally killing me. I was reckless, vulgar, stubborn and downright mean to practically everyone I met whether in passing or through work or anytime in life really. I was not a person anyone wanted to get to know and I was very lonely because of it. To cope I threw myself into my work which is what led me to this "boy" Noah.

We worked for the same company at different locations, and had some brief encounters here and there but we didn't officially work together right away. In all honesty when I first met him I hated him, and I made sure everyone knew that I thought he was a jerk. Which is actually why I ended up working with him. My boss, Troy, happened to be Noah's good friend, and assigned us to work together. I still remember the conversation actually. "I've known Noah for years. He's a little rough around the edges, but he's really not a bad guy. Give him a chance. Go help him close, he's never done it before." Troy said. So I reluctantly headed over to this other store to help this guy that I didn't like, and we ended up talking in the parking lot until like 6am. He wasn't so bad after all, once you got him alone and picked through the annoying arrogant shell. So one thing lead to another and after several long nights chatting out side our cars in the Taco Bell parking lot eventually we decided to meet outside of work. We exchanged phone numbers and set up a time and place to meet. I arrived early in nervous anticipation. It wasn't actually a "date" as he was officially dating another girl we were working with, but it was the first time I had actually just gone to meet some guy I hardly knew alone, with OUT telling my parents who I was with or where I was going. The scheduled time for us to meet came and went with no Noah. I waited around for several minutes but decided to cut my losses and head home. My mom had called me while I was waiting and asked if I could pick up a gallon of milk on my way home. I said I would, so when I decided to leave that's where I went. As I was walking through the grocery store with milk in hand my phone rang. It was Noah. I paused looking at the caller ID trying to decide if I wanted to answer or not. It went to voice mail and I thought that would be the end of it. Instead with out leaving a message he called back and it began to ring again. This time I answered trying to sound unaffected by the turn of events. He explained that he had gotten home from work late, had been in the shower and lost track of time. He was currently on his way, and he hoped that I would still be there. I told him that I had left to pick up some milk for my parents and needed to run it home, but I would be back as soon as I finished that. He apologized and promised he would be there.