It has been awhile since I've written, I apologize, the concerns of the normie jobs and the need to take care of some technological aspects of my business were a stressor that distracted me away from creative writing and soul development. But, here I am, back to find even more clarity within the character of Eponine.
Today, I want to focus on my twenty-something self, specifically the early twenties, as a good deal of that time was spent in the agony mindset of Eponine. The photo above is symbolic to me, and was meant to be just that. It was symbolic of the fact that in a few months from when that was snapped, I was moving away from Ashland and my college and post college life, heading back to my home county and into graduate school. The photo was to be given to the boys I was leaving behind, who had only to recently within that timeframe shattered my heart to itty bitty millions of pieces. Herein lies that story.
Yes, this picture marks an ending, but in order to understand how I got there, I must take you back, back to the year or so previous when I had graduated college and was heading into the wide, wide world. Yes, I had a four year degree under my belt (a BS in Human Communication, to be exact, get the joke), but I still wasn't sure what I wanted to do with my life nor who I really was, for that matter. Having left behind my true calling and not even received the degree in which I had sought after (Theatre Arts), I felt lost, seeking any sort of validation wherein it could be found.
I was newly minted Born Again Christian at this time yet still so new to that world that I found myself stumbling back to the familiar, as it were, to be faced with an unending amount of shame couched in false love and concern from those I called friends within the church.
I needed to get a job and decided the only thing to do was to advance in what I was good at, the only thing I thought I could do. In college, I had worked as an in-home nanny after class for a local family so the next step for me was to apply at some local preschools. That is just what I did.
It was a fun life, for a bit of time. I was young and exploring the city from which I had lived for four years in a fresh way, out of the confines of the college environment. I began to explore myself by defining who I was without. I had also recently broken out of an abusive relationship of three years. He still tried to ingratiate himself in my life, trying to grab ahold and manipulate me back into his grasp, to no avail, thankfully.
However, there was still the storms within. I bounced between living situations, barely staying at a place for more than a year, my relationships were rocky and tumultuousness, I felt no real closeness towards another human, but kept the walls up. In actual reality, I was afraid to allow someone close, real and true intimacy scared me as I felt this unending emptiness aside. Thus, I learned to play a part, put up a false front of happiness, when inwardly I felt continuous turmoil.
All of this, plus I was some years away from the Bipolar breakdown and diagnosis, which would eventually be my saving grace, as well as the discovery of the Celiac Disease, which would also put me on my continuous life-long journey towards recovery and self-(healing) discovery. To be exact, I felt no comfort within my own skin, that cold hard truth is oh so apparent to me as I view the photos of myself from that time. Even more so, I couldn't see beyond my own mind's eye, believed wholeheartedly that what I thought inside was actually how others thought of me, was the cold hard fact.
In every sense of the world, I was Eponine.
And then, a shift happened. It was so slight at the time, like the minutest of earthquakes, the kind that happens, is only felt by a seismic detector, and is reported upon later. Such was this moment. But that decision made had a long-lasting, life-long influence, which would send out shockwaves in its aftermath for years to come providing lessons that would never truly leave me and continue forward in its education and evolution of my soul.
I entered a cafe.
In this cafe, I found a sense of peace, escape from the ex-boyfriend who would just show up at my apartment. I would flee there every Saturday morning, reading my bible and journaling, drinking coffee after coffee, avoiding phone calls from the ex. And, in this world, I discovered...them.
The coffee boys, ie, the cute, red headed barista who was so gentle and kind-hearted in his quiet way, the dark long haired, "Scary Dark Boy" (my nickname) one whose darkness was so encapsulating that it left an air of mystery, the long, lanky one who resembled Shaggy, the straight-laced looking one with the tie, and the older hippie looking one. There were others as well. They'd sit on the small patio, examining me as I examined them, the glass separating us. Who would be the first to shatter and bridge the distance?
I wanted to, I felt the desire and the attraction, perhaps a deep down, long buried, since of belonging. But, per the usual, it was one of the guys that made the first connection.
"Are you reading the bible?" One of them asked approaching me at my table.
"Yes," I smiled proudly. I thought this was the moment to be shared later with my Christian friends, my duty as evangelist to win their souls. Maybe that was my calling here in this cafe? Maybe...
They were in utter disbelief and mockingly laughed with the friends. (Yet, the red headed barista did not, that was notable, he kindly placed my oatmeal on the table and smiled reassuringly down at me. Note that.)
But, thus it began. I was a girl living so many existences but not my own. Seeking outward validation in the form of acceptance from the church's enforcement of righteous living and approval through the love found in a man's arms. I was lost in the sea of my own tumult, dashed about by the waves of those who thought they knew best for me, I tried to comply but came up lacking.
But, oh there were moments reaching towards the heavens divine, leisurely summer days on the patio at the café, long hiking adventures with the boys, hanging at the bar, laughing, being together. Looking back, within the confines of my café friendships, I felt a sense of security that was not felt anywhere else, of the unconditional, non-judgmental acceptance sort. But, there were still the voices from other forces, the elder figures of social norms trying to get me to settle down and choose a career, the domination of the church, abusive elements that I would one day have to break free from but in that moment I still hung to a thread of, still believing that if I only obeyed I would be loved, but never, never measuring up.
Well, not all the café boys did not remain in the friendzone for long, but even more so, the romantic aspect of the relationship would not hold either, overshadowed by the judgment of the church's judgment but even more so my own shaky sense of self. Thus, followed my Eponine existence, I would languish alone, pining, walking the street in memory, singing "On My Own" in my heart, outwardly playing "Don't Know Why" on repeat with my friend, Jamie, on our girl's nights where we would hold mutual "Eponine" heart to hearts licking our wounds over our ex-boyfriends.
All this would come to a head in January of 2004, after the last breakup of the café-boys, the aforementioned 'scary-dark boy', whose darkness I had allowed myself to be encompassed by so as to hide from my own. Yes, he and I had come together in sworn love only to have him become disillusioned once he had achieved that conquest. Years later, he and I would reunite and eventually marry, to be quickly followed two years later by eventually divorcing, due to his abuse and inability within himself to get out of his darkness and be truly intimate. (Well, that's putting it mildly.)
But, I digress, back to the moment in January 2004, when he broke up with me after a week of asking for space, just like Taylor Swift's line "We hadn't seen each other in a month When you said you needed space. (What?)" We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together
"What?" he spat.
