Skinsuit Wrinkles
I am finding that exploring emotions can be painful.
A little over two years ago, I thought that maybe I was becoming numb. Oh, I still laughed with my kids, cried at movies, and had ample need of therapy for the other woes and wins in life, but…
I looked around the cafeteria and tried to get in the heads of everyone I’d see. This became a practice at the mall, in restaurants, theme parks, classrooms, everywhere!
I came to realize that my life, in this costume (meat sack) I wear, is vibrant in its own way, but it’s not technicolor. It’s not one translated into 34 languages. It does not account for all the blight and blessings that I mosey right by without a thought.
So, I started thinking.
What would it be like to be a single mom? How would it feel to be fired from your pulpit? What would a shop owner experience when she lost her salon due to the pandemic?
I couldn’t stop there.
I filled pages and pages in my journal where I attempted to empathize with the people around me who were waiting for the concert. I imagined the burdens of the man at the gas pump across from me.
Then I tried writing them into novels, and that’s when it became painful. It’s one thing to jot down, “retired Corvette grandpa seeking acknowledgement,” but it’s another to develop a character who is in play with others.
I started a short story about a man and two children who experienced the loss of the wife/mom. The husband was a scientist who was dead set on reviving her, attempting to clone her from DNA from her hairbrush. I couldn’t even finish that, for it was making me ache inside. (On the upside, it made me appreciate my own wife all that much more.)
Now I’m years into the cast of my novel series. I’m vicariously experiencing break ups, break downs, victories and defeats. I’ve laughed and I’ve cried, but the emotion I’ve been stung by the most in this experiment has been: betrayal.
That’s a horrible emotion. Every time I re-read how that affects my leads, I get tortured by it again. I have never experienced betrayal IRL at the scale these guys do, and I never want to. Avoiding betrayal is almost impossible, unless you live under a rock. Once you’re vulnerable and believe anything or trust anyone—you’re setting up for betrayal. Someone who loves deep and lives his heart, like Rory Reed, has a very hard time with betrayal. If there were an upside to betrayal, it would be motivation, for as I explore it, I’m finding flavoring revenge with betrayal is potent.
I think I’ll keep trying on the costumes others wear. I’ll bounce around in joyous jumpsuits of children, and I’ll wrap myself in quilted comforts of an old man who’s life’s been well-lived. I’ll edge up to the gut punches, too, but maybe I’ll avoid the lonely and betrayed thrift shop wardrobes until I’m a little more mighty.
