That Ugly Word

Clingy.

Like a nasty, sneaky tick found in the Alabama forest in the middle of July.

The kind you never quite notice until the end of a busy day, the kind that takes a team of committed friends to pick off, all with wide eyes, a collective stubborn will, refusing to let nature win this one.

Clingy.

The name that is more often given to women than men when perhaps, there is another side of the story called “Fear of Real Love” or, “Resistance to Authentic Intimacy”, a block that starts in your chest and grows bigger every time your heart gets stepped on.

Clingy.

Like a contagious disease you didn’t know you had, the kind that keeps kids away from you at the playground.

The kind that gives you the side eye in a crowded room. 

Two steps toward the door, a quick escape.

Now I have only been called this word once or twice in my life, once probably given from myself, but, what is it with that word?

For the month of March, I have tried to create a sense of space in my life.

A space for healing.

For questions.

A space to come back to my creative center.

A space for silence.

And as I sit myself down for an interview and I ask that one uncomfortable question that Emily Siner from the local NPR station encourages every interviewer to do, I feel my eyes wander or my phone calling my name or anything to distract myself from releasing these terrifying, heart-probing words out of my zip-tight lips.

The question is this: 

What are you clinging to in your life in order to distract yourself from reality?

Two things: 

1- We are all clingy. Own it.

2- I am the expert at distracting myself and I cling to an overcrowded schedule.

Also, there's this: I love hard.

I bend over backward for people at the cost of my own personal growth.

I do more than I need to for my students, and because of this, I get taken advantage of by 15 year olds all across this city.

And I cling, hard.

I cling to what’s comfortable, what’s familiar, predictable, safe.

And I don’t know what that means for Future Me.

But we all start somewhere, right?