Dark Passenger

For better or for worse, I’m a perennial time traveler. I exist in a dichotomy with myself in that, even when I’m in the middle of a risque spontaneous adventure, I wax nostalgic for the past while simultaneously fretting over the fate of the future. So when I read Food4Thought’s “Time-Slip” prompt this week — “tell us about a time in your own life you wish you could return to and perhaps make a change” — I easily conjured all manner of experiences from my past that I could alter. 

Yet, I’ve watched Back to the Future enough times in my life that Doc Brown’s warning kept playing in my head. What if a change I made created a “time paradox, the result of which could cause a chain reaction that would unravel the very fabric of the space-time continuum and destroy the entire universe?!” Would I trade the known for an unknown that could be worse?

Doc does it anyway!

So for the love of all that is holy about ’80s movies, off I go.

If I could, I’d hop into my DeLorean and ride it back in time to just a few months ago. I’d find me sitting alone at a haunted table, nursing a favorite cocktail, shortly after having arrived for another trip in what had become a familiar city. 

And I’d take this letter with me…

*******

Dear Carolyna in November, 

It will begin with this trip. And then the next few months will be hell, physically and emotionally. Some of the things that will happen will be beyond your control. The things you can control will feel equally out of reach, marked by an anxiety/depression/rage cycle that you’ll come to nickname your Dark Passenger.

There will be a trail of steady disappointments. Relationships lost. Friendships betrayed. And your soul will ache for loved ones who will grapple with demons you’ll feel helpless to vanquish. Sleep will elude you. Your body will break and the pain will, at times, feel like more than you can bear. Unsexy and unsettled, you’ll feel like a stranger to yourself. In the confusion, promises you shouldn’t keep will make you second guess yourself every day. Compassion fatigue will be your constant companion. When you force yourself to smile and feign excitement, you’ll end up minimizing your feelings and calling yourself a fool. In turn, you will suffer several fools as well.

Defeat will wear on your expression and you’ll lose some of the joy you’ve known in the things you love. Lost. Afraid. So you’ll resist emerging connections because you won’t trust your ability to keep your heart safe and your body healthy. Your reliance on vices and empty experiences to numb the sorrow will make you waste time feeling guilty and stuck. You’ll cry. You’ll grieve. You’ll seethe.

But good things will happen, too. 

You will spend time with amazing new friends and experience beautiful art on this trip. Your beloved moon will keep you company in the wee hours and the music you’ll avoid for a time will slowly find itself back into your rotation. Every morning, you’ll still rise to do what needs to get done. You are the fixer. Flashes of joy will come from the accomplishments of your children and the triumph of your best friend.

In the midst of the maelstrom, you’ll accomplish a lofty goal. You will write! You will find the words – so many words – some just for you and others for the blog you might just maybe finally launch (and for a new challenge, too)! New people will come into your life who will breathe fresh perspectives. When they tell you you’re worth it, sometimes you will believe them. In the process, it will occur to you that you’ll likely always be a person who loves too hard, takes on too much, and gives even more than that. But you will step foot on the path to forgiving yourself and create distance from those who take you for granted.

Just shy of your birthday, when the hole feels its deepest, you will see glimpses of you again. Genuine laughter will offer some relief from the vice grip around your soul. Your body will continue healing and your sanity will start to regenerate. You’ll sip, not gulp, your bourbon for the simple joy of the experience and break the seal on those naughty new toys (yes, girl, so many new toys in your future!). 

I know.

You’re asking yourself why. How? But most importantly, if all of this is coming, what could you change right now to avoid the pit but keep the gains? But that’s not how it works, Carolyna. You’ll find no temporal event sequence here that will result in an alternate reality. Shit, even from my vantage point, you still have quite a ways to go.

Take heart, nonetheless. Tuck this letter into your bra — a small thread of sustenance to fortify your psyche for the coming storm. Then, do whatever you have to do to make it through. Trust that you’ll know when the time is right to dust off your wings and trigger a butterfly effect of strategic risk-taking intrinsic in our nature. Not for the past, but for the present and for the future. Heck, you won’t even need a flux capacitor to do it.

For now, finish that drink and go take a stroll. The Dark Passenger is part of us, but it’s not the best of us. And la luna is brilliant tonight.

Love, Carolyna in March

*******

I’d ask the hot hotel bartender to hand me the letter, tickled to know that I’d wonder if he was slipping me his number. I’d surreptitiously watch me read it as I savored the smooth as fuck, pecan-aged, Elijah Craig old-fashioned from that bar. Then, I’d dash out the back door to the walking path by the water. I’d make note of its nostalgia and find beautiful irony in the fact that I hadn’t gone back to change much of anything, but rather to remind me that where I’ve been isn’t where I’ll stay.

Or maybe I just needed to see that lake one last time before letting it go.

Either way, damn would I have a story to tell!

Alas, my DeLorean awaits parked under the bridge, ready to take me back to the future…in plenty of time to catch my flight to London. 

Yes, friends! I’m working my way out of that pit and I’m going to Eroticon! It will be my first time in London, so if you see me, say hi. I’ll have kinky stickers to share and I’d love to meet you.

Post Images Credit: Carolyna Luna