Heesun’s Table #16: I Woke Up Guilty
The case of Going Out.
I woke up guilty. Half of my clean laundry draped over my desk. The window curtain was open. Layers of last night’s clothing were in a pile beside me. My heat tech, my underwear, my toe spacers. Strands of my hair stuck to my face. Miraculously, I had no makeup on. I forgot to charge my phone, so I went to the clock. It was already noon. I was going to be late, again.
I sent a text to my friend. “Disheveled, please don’t judge me.” I feared the possibility of her criticism more than my own. It perplexed me that I felt good. Mentally, at least. The lower half of my body felt like lead.
She responded - she was disheveled, too. Both of us had nights. Excitement and anticipation replaced my initial fear. I reminded myself, she was an old friend. We had been up to similar hijinks in high school together. Of course she’d understand.
I called my other friend from last night. I needed assurance, that I wasn’t a reckless, selfish, alcoholic. Or, I could be reckless and selfish, but only in doses like last night’s. I reminded myself, too, that I have good judgement. Or, judgement that came from years of nights like the last. I could be hardworking and work just as hard in my personal life. And still, end up safe and at home. I smelled good. I managed to shower last night, or what was really early this morning, too.
My coffee friend and I exchanged all sorts of conversation. It was as if it hadn’t been years since we last saw each other, let alone spoke. We carried details of our lives, of our artistry, of curiosities in people and the world around us. I noticed my hand was jittery from the coffee, and my half empty stomach was beginning to reel. A few hours later, we said our goodbyes and promised to see each other again - sooner. For once, I believed that to be true.
I was supposed to see a movie that afternoon. It was a short walk, and ironically, right by the venue I was at last night. Fearing running into last night’s Someone, I took the longer route. On the way there, I passed by a church. A sign outside read, “Organ Meditation 4:00”. It was 4:06. I decided to walk in.
It was a Catholic church. Around fifteen people sat in the pews. I seated myself in an empty row, a couple in my line of vision a few rows ahead. The hymns that were played reminded me of my old church. It was Sunday, and sitting there I realized it had been years since I last sat in a church. A stain glassed Jesus stared at me. I tried to pray, tried to thank Him for making sure I got home safe last night, that nothing bad happened. I tried to find my faith in a Catholic church as a faltering former Christian. I patiently sat and half heartedly waited, expecting some sort of a response, but there was none.
Instead, an older gentleman sat in front of me and the couple that pressed their heads and hands so tightly against eachother that it made me question the comfortability of their position. The gentleman began to shake, then cried so openly that when I watched him, I wanted to cry too. Maybe from my lack of feeling presence, maybe from the part of me that wished I could so easily let my own emotions release as effortlessly, honestly as he had. He exemplified a form of honest living I had only been able to find in the theatre when I played make believe, or in dark places with music much louder than these organ meditations I was listening to, at such an overbearing volume that allowed me to be less afraid of my impulses, of desires I tended to set aside, buried in excuses of professionalism, perfectionism, and the often paralyzing need I carried with me to be liked by everyone.
I wrote this initially as a response to this post by Arden on the train this morning. It is strange, navigating these mid twenties adventures and exploring the less, in-your-face-control I tend to exhibit on the day to day. Can hangxiety exist when you had a good time, but fear that you looked like a crazy person in the eyes of your loved ones? When you are pleased by the choices and actions that you’ve made, from your own impulses, only to receive judgement from those who may disagree or not understand?
Both truths can exist. Calling my best friend from home this morning, he gently reminded me that as much as I am the person who is tied up with daily discipline, a borderline obsessive work ethic, and a need for containing control — I am also… a party girl. And there’s… nothing wrong with that. Be safe, make smart decisions, and know that there’s always moderation to be had. Not everyone agrees with nightlife or partying on the weekends, part of our conversation revolved around the steep decline in going out for folks around our age - especially when drinking is involved. Yet, I maintain my belief that there is nothing wrong with having a silly, capital-G-Good Time. Even with my fairly conservative upbringing, I have never been attracted to the idea of a completely contained lifestyle. At least, I haven’t in the past decade of going out.
Jokingly, I’d downplay this attitude because I was a “crazy artist” who needed release. Some truth exists in that statement, but for the most part, I genuinely love it. I love meeting people. I love dancing. I love having conversations with the girls in the bathroom. One time a girl barked at me in the toilet next to me and I barked back. You can’t bark at people online. It’s not the same. You have to go on your little walks, put yourself out there, and be. Most importantly, “going out” doesn’t always associate itself with drinking yourself stupid and yakking your guts out - although, I have been guilty of both. “Going out” means putting your phone away, putting that entire other online world on mute, and being with the people around you. Trying new things. Learning what you like and dislike based off of the adventures you are willingly putting yourself through. Again, “going out” does not equal, being unsafe. There’s always a line that you must be aware of. That line should not, however, completely restrict you from trying outings altogether.
I’m drinking my protein shake and back in my weekday flow. Hope you all have a great week ahead, and maybe try going out sometime? (If that’s your sort of thing.)
love,
OG-PG
(og party gworl)
live your sex and the city truth girl!!