IN THE RYE

I’ve been channeling Holden Caulfield lately, looking at life through borrowed eyes. Having and ending one-sided relationships with strangers in my head. Fantasizing about jamming toothbrushes down people’s throats. Hanging out with a bloodied face, saying deep things like, If I do, I will, if I don’t, I won’t, and  I’m not in the mood right now. Very close to snapping. Is this what 42 is supposed to be for a woman? Channeling a 16 year old boy on the verge of being institutionalized? Is everything suddenly coming into hyper-focus, or is it time for a prescription lens? Is this me being more aware of my surroundings than I’ve ever been before, or am I days away from twirling blindly over the edge in a field of rye? I’m doing things I wouldn’t categorize as sane. I’m not questioning my judgment. Oh, I’m with you, Holden – I, also, am SO tired of fake.

Starting this blog has been an exercise in courage. I have an imposter complex and a fear of disappointing. I am always afraid of getting in trouble. I have spent the largest chunks of my life trying to please God and man, and child and parent and boss and teacher and pastor and crossing-guard. Like a lot of people I know, I rarely ask myself what I want – and want is such a tricky trickster. Want likes you to believe that it is the opposite of have.

Sometimes I do enjoy the wanting a lot more than I enjoy the having. Want is self-indulgent. It masquerades as abstinence – a waiting, a preservation of self, a dedication to prudence. It’s controlled. It doesn’t hurt anybody, or make them think less of you. It’s long-suffering. It paces patiently at the precipice. It’s safe. It catches you in the rye, stops you from losing your footing, going over the edge, falling.

What I think I am realizing is that want has been a dead thing eating a hole in my brain. Want is apathy resurrected and turned violent. Sometimes, to get where you need to in life, you just have to make a run for it – over the edge. Sometimes a free-fall over the precipice is the only way of escaping the zombie in the rye.