our hearts beat for africa

January 2010*

Thinking back to December 2010 still feels like kicking an old bruise. It still hurts to write about it. I'll eventually explain the events that lead up to this, but for now, here is the aftermath. This is actually my first journal entry about you. Everything that happened before this, I've written down as I've remembered it. This is my original entry, "I regret all the pressure I put on you and on myself. I want so badly to be a part of someone's life, that I often overlook the fact that they haven't asked me to be in theirs. When I rewind in my mind all the things you said, and all the times you looked at me, I know that I just heard what I wanted to hear, and saw what I wanted to see. You were and always would be four years younger than me. I'm disgusted with myself for thinking of you as more than a friend. You've made me feel crazy from the very beginning, and I don't think it was in a good way. You always talked in riddles and I would walk away from our conversations feeling even more confused. I was constantly trying to read between your lines, sometimes I thought I understood, other times I thought I was only hearing what I wanted to hear. How could I have misread everything? You gave me no reassurance or clarity in any way. It was selfish of you, it was like you couldn't, or didn't want to commit to anything, so you kept me waiting in the dark. You always knew how to keep me holding on just enough, it was everything your eyes would say, and how it seemed like you always had to touch my hair.

Every time that I get to know a boy, and I start to let myself think that there could be something between us, my mind does this weird thing, it says, this situation is so far from anything I could have ever imagined, it's so complex that it must have been orchestrated by God. My heart has always seemed to beat for Africa, and winding up in my mostly Sudanese church and meeting you, it all seemed to make so much sense. You wanted to live in Africa, you loved God, and you thought I was funny. It seemed too good to be true. I don't believe in coincidences, I think everything happens for a reason. I always want to assume that God is behind everything, but most times it's me trying to pull my own strings for my life. You don't know that it started this way, but everything started one night you were over, our friend from church was there too (the one you had an almost thing with.) We were all crowded around photobooth, trying on our halloween wigs, my roommate and our friend went in the other room, it was just you and me. You pulled me onto that tiny chair with you and we started taking pictures together. We took a few and were looking them over. You pointed one of them out to me, then you turned, looked me right in the eyes and said, "I look so content in this picture." I'm not sure if it was how you said it, or how you looked at me, but your words stuck with me in a way that was surprising and almost annoying.

There are few males in my life that look at me like I'm just any other girl, they don't see me as a the girl with the disability. They just treat me like I'm any other girl. There is no pity in their voice when they talk to me, and they aren't scared of hurting my feelings. This sounds like something a girl wouldn't want, but it was rare for a boy to treat me this way, I always feel so flattered when I'm perceived this way. You treated me this way from day one.

Needless to say, when my roommate went to bed that night, I spent a good half hour pouring over those six pictures of us, squinting, and hoping to see the answer to a question I was too scared to ask. That's how we started, sometimes I wish it had stopped there, that I hadn't pushed the way I always do."

 

swing away pt. 2

*Still November 2010

Swing dancing, it was all I could think about. I wanted to be that close to you again, and that was the only way I could do it. I was always living for Thursday nights. You were almost done with your fall semester, so you had a lot of work to do. It meant that you couldn't come dancing for a few weeks. On the nights you weren't there, I would text you the whole time as I was watching from the sidelines. When you finally came back, I was so excited, I tried to be patient and wait for you to ask me to dance again, but you didn't. Every time you would sit down for a rest, you would tease me about stealing my scarf, or say something flirty, at one point, you even grabbed my hand for some reason. I don't remember what we were talking about, but you held it for a second and traced the lines on it. I wanted you to keep it, but eventually you let go.

I was so giddy, but tried to hide it. Once again, I had to initiate our dance. I was bolder this time and immediately stepped close to you, like we had before, but this time you were more cautious. This time you were the one to put more space in between us. You said I was too close to you. I was so confused. You were so much closer a few weeks earlier when my mom was there. I wanted to ask you why, it was killing me. I stuttered, but finally got it out. You said you were scared you might do something bad. It just didn't make sense to me. What does that mean? What could possibly be bad? Did you want to stomp on my feet? It couldn't be anything like hitting on me, my mom had been there last week, this would have been your opportunity to actually dance close to me, or hit on me if you wanted to. "I don't want to do something bad." Those words left me perplexed for weeks. You picked up swing dancing faster in two weeks than our friends did in four. You danced with my roommate the whole night, she was one of the only girls you knew. I was jealous? No, that's not really a question. I wanted to mean the most to you. I couldn't help it. It was so ugly of me, how could I feel that way about my best friend? You were probably just another boy. When I got home that night, my roommate and I were trying to figure out what, "do something bad meant." I was holding my little dog, I said, "You're a boy, what was he talking about?" I then proceeded to hold him as close as I did with you during our slow dance. My dog licked my face. My roommate and I laughed till we fell over.

At the end of the month you got weird. You told me that you needed some time, you said it all cryptic and confusing. I wasn't sure what you were actually saying, but what I took away from it, was that you needed some time away from girls, that you needed to figure some things out. I couldn't help but think you were talking about me. Was I getting to close? Did you realize how much I cared about you, and that you didn't reciprocate my feelings? It made me so upset. You told me you couldn't accept rides from me anymore. I was so sad because it was the one time we were alone, when we really got to talk. Those were the times that meant the most to me, you would tell me you had to go as reached for the door, but we always ended up parked in front of your dorm for at least another hour. We would laugh so hard about the weirdest things, and then there were the times when we were so serious and honest that it hurt. It was such a raw feeling to be like that with someone. Nothing physical, just talking. I started to get frustrated with you. I wanted to know how much I meant to you, to feel like I wasn't crazy for thinking that we had something, that you weren't like this with everyone. Christmas was so close, I was getting so excited. The snow reminded me of everything I wanted every year. To be with someone who loved me, to buy those matching reindeer sweaters, to walk hand in hand through the lit city streets late at night, in my bright red coat. I know it's a lot to ask, but a girl can dream.

what we deserve

*November 2010 

This whole month is one big happy blur. I'm trying my best to remember the order of things. All I'm certain of, is that I wanted to see you all the time, that you made me so happy. One Sunday at church we were talking in the corner, there was this big, leafy plant in between us. I probably kept touching it because I was nervous, so you started talking about it, how it reminded you of a plant from Africa. You looked at me for half a second and I felt something, it was something new, it happened so fast, I thought I imagined it, but I couldn't help but mention it to my roommate on our way home. She laughed at me like I was ridiculous. I felt so stupid for even bringing it up. I was a little mad too, why would it be so unbelievable for him to like me? This is the part that I wish I could forget. The part that I regret, the part the shows who I really am, and it makes me ask the question, "If I could do it all over again, would I do it differently?" I saw a quote this week that reminded me of how as humans, we think ugly thoughts, and do ugly things, and when we do these things we want to quickly brush these feelings under the rug. As Christians, sometimes we're too scared to admit that we're capable of feeling this way, like were somehow better than others, that we don't have these moments just like everyone else. 

"I discovered something which I had never confronted before, that there were immense forces of darkness and hatred within my own heart. At particular moments of fatigue or stress, I saw forces of hate rising up inside me, and the capacity to hurt someone who was weak and was provoking me! That, I think, was what caused me the most pain: to discover who I really am, and to realize that maybe I did not want to know who I really was! I did not want to admit all the garbage inside me. And then I had to decide whether I would just continue to pretend that I was okay and throw myself into hyperactivity, projects where I could forget all the garbage and prove to others how good I was." 
- Jean Vanier

I started to realize something that I knew along, but wanted to ignore from that first day my roommate saw me in your baseball hat. It was the reason for her silence on this topic, her almost exasperation when I brought up this topic. Did she like you too? How could I feel right about things, about us, if I knew she had feelings for you too? Couldn't I just keep things the way they were and hope I was wrong about her? It was so subtle, her always ignoring this issue, no one else wouldn't have noticed, but it was more about what she didn't say than what she did say. She was always one to talk things out with someone if she knew they were dealing with something, to give her genuine opinion on things. That's how she always was, giving in every way. I started to think about everything differently. She deserved him more than me. I felt foolish worrying about all of these things without knowing how you actually felt.

We were out shopping one night, I was selfishly talking about you again, how you were young, how it freaked me out, but how your life experiences added on a few extra years. That's how I was justifying it all. She was weird again, not giving me real answers, so I outright asked her, I had to. I remember staring at an ugly sweater for way too long, because I couldn't look her in the eyes. She couldn't answer me. She just kept saying you were so young, that she didn't think she liked you. It wasn't very convincing. I was devastated, and didn't know what to do with this new information. Nothing felt right. How could I keep up my relationship with you and her at the same time? I had to choose? 

I tried to pretend I was a guy, I put my roommate and I side by side and tried to think objectively about it all. It didn't take me very long to decided who was the better choice. I don't think I have low self esteem, but I realize how it's going to sound like it in a second. You just have to understand how amazing my roommate is. It's more than her knowing she's amazing, it's that she actually is, and doesn't know, or acknowledge the fact that she is. She's gorgeous, she can cook, sew, give great advice, she's quick to laugh, and the most loyal of friends. If it came right down to it, I didn't stand a chance against her. I'm cynical, I'm only good at making chicken noodle soup, I pretend I can sew (Confessional #8 every Christmas my roommate and I make homemade gifts for family and friends. It usually requires sewing. I start off with every intention of sewing these crafts, but I get frustrated and my roommate finishes them for me and doesn't want the credit for it.) I'm too sarcastic most days, and I laugh like a heyena. My heart started to ache over you, over both of these friendships. I didn't want to have to prove that I was a good person by giving you up, but at the same time, I couldn't accept that I was a monster who would pick a boy she was just getting to know this year, over her best friend. I didn't want to be that girl. If only I was better at sewing those Christmas purses, if only I had a better heart, maybe then I would deserve you...

swing away

*November 2010

Back to us, back to you. My mind always goes back to those Thursday nights when we would get dressed up and go downtown swing dancing in that huge ballroom. When I say we, I mean my friends would dance, and I would watch. I felt so bad when men would come up to me and ask me to dance. I felt like a huge jerk saying no, I don't think they ever really believed me that I couldn't do it. The hardwood floors, the low lighting, and the wall of mirrors were so beautiful. I haven't been back since last November. I loved people watching and my friends attempting to be coordinated. I mostly went because of you. I don't know how it all started, I think it was this one comment you randomly made to me one night. You said, "I'm going to slow dance with you in the snow." I don't remember the context, but I sure do remember that part, because I thought it was the nicest thing that any boy had ever said to me. I didn't know boys thought about stuff like that too. So in the back of my mind, I wanted my slow dance with you, and I spent a week watching you learn the steps with my roommate, and hoping you would you would ask me by the end of the night.

One of my closest friend was over for lunch some time in this month. She was the only person who I felt was unbiased about the whole situation. She didn't go to our church and had only met you once. I had confessed to her that I felt something for you, that I didn't know what it was, I just knew I felt it so strongly. She asked me if I had a crush on you, I immediately replied, "No, I think I would go right to loving him. It would be so easy to do it I let myself." My answer came so naturally. It terrified me that I could identify it so quickly. She told me it sounded messy. I could tell she thought it was a terrible idea.

I think it would be safe to say that at this point our relationship was complicated. Even though neither of us would admit it, our feelings were stronger than anyone else knew. We had these intense moments together in my car after an event at church. I would drop you off and what seemed like minutes would turn into hours, and before I knew it we were both going back and forth, challenging each other about serious things. You were full of riddles, your mind was always going, I could see it even when we weren't having our conversations. I can't even fully describe our conversations. They were so passionate and heated, half of the time I didn't even know what we were talking about, but I could see that you were hiding a lot and I wanted you to be free of those things. I knew there was something huge there, something from your past that was ruling your thoughts and actions, something that you couldn't face. You were always hinting to me that you were a bad person, that if people knew the real you, they wouldn't ever speak to you again. I felt so strongly against this, I knew that what I felt for you would trump anything you could ever tell me.

I remember almost shedding a tear out of anger when you told me that sometimes you just wanted to disappear and stop trying. I suddenly broke the rule where we talk about everything but us. I said, "you cannot do that to me." It was the first time I acknowledged how much you meant to me. I tried to make you promise me that you wouldn't disappear, but you wouldn't do it. I remember trying to tell you exactly how I felt about you with my eyes, because my mouth wouldn't do it. I swore that you loved me, yet at times, it almost seemed like I repulsed you. You wouldn't ever touch me, or be alone with me. I remember walking into church with you in the middle of the winter, I would almost be slipping on ice, and you wouldn't offer me your arm, yet there would be times when you would just impulsively reach out and play with my hair or closely examine my necklace for just a little bit too long. Both of these things were so intimate. You would always do these things when no one was looking, and it would confuse me so much.

One particular Thursday night you came with us swing dancing. My mom and youngest sister were there that night. I was so excited for you to be around them for the first time. I had been talking about you to them a lots. You sat by me, we talked a lot. I finally got sick of waiting for you to ask me to dance, so I finally asked you about it. You hesitated, but offered me your hand, I took it. We walked off into a corner, You pulled me so close that I started to freak out, my eyes got huge, I pushed you away, putting more space between us. I told you I had never been that close to boy before. This was true, I didn't know what to do being in such close proximity to you, I just started twitching lots. It was hilarious how my awkwardness never seemed to bother you. You just ignored it and smiled at me. Anyone else would've been mortified. I started mumbling to fill in the silences. You couldn't hear what I said, but I pretended that what you thought I said was correct. I couldn't speak. You told me I could dance on your feet, so I did. We probably looked like middle schoolers, but I didn't care. As far as I was concern, there was no one else in the room that night. The song that was playing, wasn't even slow, I didn't care. Our song ended, it was time to go home.

Everyone put their coats on and walked out the door. I kept waiting for one of my friends, or my sister to whisper something to me about our intense dance, but no one did. I felt like we were always having these really intensely intimate moments, but they went unnoticed by everyone except us. I was scared that I was making them up in my mind, that these moments only meant something to me. I wanted someone else to point them out for me, for someone to say that I wasn't crazy. You and I would never address these moments, we acted like they never even happened. To acknowledge them would be to admit that they were real, and that something needed to be done. I guess it was easier for both of us to exist in a world of what ifs. I was also too scared to ask, I couldn't bear to find out that indeed, I had imagined everything, and that you were just another boy that meant too much to me.

splinters & sidewalks

I can't wrap up these posts about the most influential men in my life without addressing my number one influence, my dad. I know it seems like an overused and cliche`ed excuse that girls always seem to use when they want to blame someone for their bad relationships decisions, but it's true, when a dad isn't there to fulfill that role, bad things happen. There is this huge void that we are constantly trying to fill. I wanted that attention from males, but I didn't know how to obtain it in a healthy way. I saw my sister's struggle with this too. I know that we're ultimately responsible for every decision we make, but coming from a fatherless home almost sets a girl up to have a harder time dealing with the male gender. To this day I still do not know how to act around men. They make me uncomfortable. I cannot relate to them and I don't know how to treat them.

I love my dad, I really do. He calls about once a week. He's proud of us girls and everything we have accomplished. He comes to every play and piano recital because he really wants to be there, but it's still not enough. It's the in between times that really matter, the times when I'm really struggling with something and I show my true colors. Love me then, that's when it really matters. You shouldn't be able to only witness the times we shine, strangers get to witness those too. You weren't there to see the progression of all our hard work, the tears, the tantrums, and everything it took to get to that moment. I wish you only being there on our important days was enough, but at the end of the day, I just want us to all drive away together in the same car and sleep under the same roof. I miss our dinners together, not the ones toward the end, those were filled with screaming silences and anger on both of our sides.

I don't know when it happened, but one day it turned into Dad vs. Us. It should have never been like that. I missed the dinners in that tiny kitchen in our old house near the thruway. Those were filled with excitement and warmth. There was always a buzz in the air as soon as you would get home from work and joined us. We were all so happy, then you thought you had to build us a dream house. You put too much pressure on yourself Dad. I was already so impressed with you. I hated it when you would be gone for hours working on it, I just wanted you home with us. I do remember how proud you were when you showed us the skeleton of our new house. You built our new house in the middle of nowhere, far off the road. I was excited about our new life. You showed us where all of the rooms would be, it was hard for me to imagine everything being finished and really living there. You wanted us to have everything, you put everything into that house, you worked so hard.

Life always seems so ironic, sometimes the dreams we're chasing lead us to these empty alleys where we said we would never go. People never intend to do bad things, it's that one moment of justification that takes place, when you decide to let your guard down and tell yourself it's just once, nothing will happen. Before you know it, you're drowning in regrets, and lies to cover up your lies. To this day, no one really knows when it happened, or how you met her. Suddenly everything made sense. You were distancing yourself from us, you couldn't live both lives, I don't know how you did it for so long. Maybe you had to divide yourself into three different people, the one who went through the motions at church where you ran the kids program and played the organ, who you were at home, always pretending we weren't there, blocking us out, or always yelling, and who you were with her. I'm sure you felt like she was your escape from everything.

You left before you could finish the house, it was years before my mom could afford to buy carpeting. That rough plywood left splinters in our feet, we didn't have a railing up the stairs, our closets were these huge empty spaces in the wall. They were useless. It was like you slowly gave up on us and having that life you dreamed of. When it comes right down to it, I still blame you, I counted on you to be there, to protect us. Up until that point, I didn't realize you were even capable of making mistakes, let alone ones that huge. I always find myself wishing for those Christmas' when we lived in that tiny house by the thruway, some of us were three to a room, and scary people would knock on our door at all hours of the night, but we were happy, and I felt safe because you were there with us, and everything was genuinely felt.

Our house felt too big after you left. I missed the sound of you coming upstairs, I always knew it was you from the way you would tap all of your fingers along the wall as you came up. After you were gone, I felt like it was my duty to stay up all night and protect the house from any intruders. I would lie awake for hours, with my ears on high alert. I remember being too terrified to yell out to my mom when I actually did hear something. I'm sure most of the sounds were made up in my head. I hated my new role, but I was more worried about my mom and sisters, we weren't ready to be alone.

When I was home for thanksgiving this year, I was laying in bed, battling my thoughts, when I remembered back to when they were pouring the cement for our back sidewalk. Someone had the idea of leaving our hand prints in the wet cement. I had forgotten all about them. The next day I went in my backyard and tried to find them, I had to wrestle with a hose and I muddied my shoes, but there they were, buried under a million leaves, all forgotten and forlorn. Sometimes it's so hard to remember my dad ever being in our house, but the proof is there, it's in the pavement.