and I lift them
one by one
close to my heart
and I say
holy holy
“The Healing Time” by Pesha Gertler
Once, twice, more times than I would like to admit during my single twenties, I made job choices that make no sense. That make complete sense, now that I know the communication difficulties and sensory needs I was up against. Now that I know other neurodivergents experience similar difficulties landing on work that works. I often reimagine my life according to different career decisions:
I make something of myself. I gain approval. I get out of debt sooner, or choose a more practical graduate degree and never go into debt. I hold forth a bright, shining glass ball in my hand and say to everyone who looks my way, “This is my career, and I have done it for decades, and I am good at it.”
It’s too late for that.
I once said no to a salaried job, for which I learned later I would certainly have been hired; it was midsemester and seemed more important to finish teaching the two adjunct classes I’d picked up at the local tech college, which were barely paying the bills. Never crossed my mind to accept the job on condition I complete the short-term teaching commitment. Earnest little thing, and holy.
Later, unemployed and running out of money in a new town, I turned down a job I now see would have been a good fit in many ways; but I expected to be offered a different job, which I ultimately wasn’t, and also a friend had scoffed at the first job offer, and surely she knew better. Always, always in my mind, surely everyone knew better than me. Confused little thing, and holy.
I don’t know if it’s because I’m autistic or because I grew up fawning at others and thus secretly scorning myself or because I am simply human, like all of us, but it hurts to look on past versions of myself. I can’t laugh at what look like mistakes. I see all my “old wounds / the old misdirections,” and I avert my eyes. But I’m trying.
I am trying to hold that young woman, not in spite of, but because of and including “all the places / where I said no / to my life.” I try to hold her and all those holy foolishnesses, those shimmering misdirections, close to my heart and say Yes to her just as she is, to myself as I am.
Precious little thing, and holy. Holy.
Companion Quote:
“One must say Yes to life and embrace it whenever it is found — and it is found in terrible places; nevertheless, there it is.
“For nothing is fixed, forever and forever and forever, it is not fixed; the earth is always shifting, the light is always changing, the sea does not cease to grind down rock. Generations do not cease to be born, and we are responsible to them because we are the only witnesses they have.
“The sea rises, the light fails, lovers cling to each other, and children cling to us. The moment we cease to hold each other, the moment we break faith with one another, the sea engulfs us and the light goes out.”
- James Baldwin, The Price of the Ticket
Possibly for different--but probably similar--reasons, I made decisions like that for much of my life. I look at past me, though, and love her so very much. I hope that for you one day, too. In the meantime, I'll love past you on your behalf. She turned into...you. And I have such regard for you, my friend.
Thank you for reminding me of this beautiful poem. I'm so thankful to you for articulating what it's like to look back and feel tender towards that younger self.