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Last Call


When I feel hurt, I disconnect. My body remains in my seat but my soul jumps out and tries to crawl through the ceiling. Because I'm so removed, I go blank. I can't formulate a response or even a thought. All I can do is sit there like a banked sturgeon. It's unnerving for everyone. Especially for the person who's left with a shell instead of an Amber.

Since feeling hurt is a major part of the human condition, this is something I need to address. Because once I learn how to stop having out of body experiences every time I feel threatened, I might be able to inject some levity or empathy into the situation.

Empathy > Shell Human

But how do you shift something you've been doing your entire life? I often don't even realize I'm doing it until I'm so far out I don't know how to get back in. When I realize I'm gone, I take a breath and search for the soul that's attempting to claw a hole in the roof. Then I lasso it and reattach it to my body. But that takes a few minutes. In the mean time, the person across from me is getting more and more disconcerted.

Clearly, I have some baggage. Most people do. But I probably don't need to carry it all with me. It's heavy and all that dragging makes me testy. Especially if someone dares mention my baggage in my presence. I prefer to think it invisible and let's all just agree to support my delusion, thanks.

For the past few weeks, I've felt like the world is boxing me in, circling itself, so old conversations are recycled and something an ex said seven years ago comes at me again from a new mouth and it feels even more true this time around. But really it's just coming up again so I can finally let it go. Move forward into something that feels better, instead of being dragged down by the old stuff. 

I retreat when it feels like someone has peeled off my skin and left my organs exposed to the elements. Everything feels raw and any motion is too much, but the motion is needed to sweep it away. Sometimes all you can do is allow yourself to be swept. I don't want the truth to make me cranky. I want the truth to make me feel powerful.

But for that to happen, I need to leave my baggage at the airport. Board the plane with nothing more than my phone and a credit card, sit in a wide seat with a book and a bag of potato chips, and soar off into the sky while a bomb squad hurries into the airport to dismantle the ticking bomb carefully packed in my abandoned suitcases.