The graveyard of you are not enough.
I hiked 5 miles yesterday, to find an abandoned streetcar graveyard. There was no exact address or pin. Just a general area. In the woods, near a river and some old railroad tracks. Sometimes those are the best hikes. The ones where you are searching for something, and you convince yourself you aren't leaving until you get to it. But then the sun is shining and you are two hours in during a sweaty mess of a hot summer day, and your water is warm, you have serious ass sweat, and your shoes are wet and muddy, and you almost give up. But you push forward. Because you said you would. Because follow through is the bees knees these days. And then you find out, the exact location is not five miles up and down a mountain but just a half a mile into the woods from where you parked. Isn't life funny like that? But it's all about the adventure....and the story I get to tell after.
Finding these street cars was important to me. Because, well I felt like they were long lost sisters. My sisters of abandonment. I felt as if we had gone to college together, chugged a few warm beers together, woke up regretting Taco Bell for second dinner together. They were my friends. Left in the woods but with good intentions right? That someday they would be used again. But let's face it. Some people don't mean well. Some people just use us for parts and leave us in the woods. They like the thought of us and what we could be, had they given us the right time and attention. But they realize the rust and restoration is just not what they signed up for. They want the beauty but don't want the work (on themselves or in general). They want easy. So we become forgotten. They take the pieces of us that looked good for future use , that still worked despite our years on the pavement of giving to them and others--- and they never come back. They leave the shells of us.
I sat there staring at that car as if it was about to come to life and take me to a place where I understood why people treat others so poorly. I kept thinking, "Her treatment of you is not a reflection of you. It's a reflection of her." That thought was not my own but a text a mutual friend sent me . But some things just stick. That echoed in my head as I looked through broken windows, upside down cars, and old signs to Shaker Square. I thought about all the places these cars have seen. The people who sat on these seats. I wondered where they went. Where they came from? Was it a place where they always felt wanted? How many people sat on these seats staring out the window hoping that today they would be good enough, strong enough? And then I remembered self perception is a zoo. The good people in this world are not unworthy of being restored, of living a full life bouncing from one corner of life to the next. How others treat us should not be some measureable of our value. It's just that they (those shitty humans) haven't dealt with their fuckupedness yet. And we can sit there and wait for them to deal with it and come back, or we can restore ourselves and get moving without them. Alone. Dust off the pollen and clean up the broken glass, outstretch what used to be and stop torturing ourselves. We are giant awesome things. Just because we believed in others that didn't know how to take care of themselves and others, does not mean our engine isn't worth the shine, and all the fucking glory. When I looked at the streetcar in the moment I felt like Abandoned was having a staring contest with Abandoned. Stepping back after the day was over, I realize we weren't left for who we were or are, we were left because someone decided that rust spots were holes instead of character, that flat tires were barriers instead of a story to be told, and that work (to themselves or their relationships) was just too hard to take on. Because they didn't realize that in order to restore something (yourself or a healthy relationship), you need to get your hands dirty, your mind grinding, and your knees aching.!
On days like yesterday I thank god for what I thought was abandoned, but what I feel now is grateful, because I can't imagine explaining Abandoned to my children, to my friends and family after a fresh wedding. While I know there is a shitty species out there. There's good out there too. Most like to say what they need to get by. It doesn't makes sense to us. It won't make sense to us. But we must remember that their lack of self love and commitment to being a decent human being, is not a reflection of our giant awesome things. We are awesome human beings (and if you are questioning the We, you need to shape up). Let us all stop leaving things behind for fear of ourselves. And for the us, the us that doesn't leave things behind, that stay, that puts in the work, the us with grass stains on our jeans.... let us remember that some of the most beautiful things happened in life because we restored them with the thoughts that we were indeed worth it and valuable and fucking awesome despite our past, or our cracks: The Colleseum, Reading Terminal Market, the Great Sphinx, Fenway Park, Nelson Mendela, and on and on.
Be grateful for having been left, because being restored by those that truly care and are good human beings (the kind that don't just let you merge into their changing lane but that would never intentionally hurt you) will be a great view, and the graveyard of you aren't good enough will be in the rear view mirror as you arrive into a new place, a new town of believing.
