Stop It

• Lori Palminteri
• Uncategorized
• July 17, 2016

When I was younger, I assumed It would go away on It’s own.  Like a illness, It would exist, and after sometime, my body would fight It off.  But It recurred, again and again, as if my body was storing it, and sometimes, It would go dormant, only to reappear later.  Still, I had this idea that It could go away, forever, and I just wasn’t fighting It with the right weapons.

Maybe, if I got straight A’s, and went to a better college It would stop.  Maybe if I drank more, or drank less.  Maybe if I smoked weed in the late afternoon, when the sun hung low in the sky, torn between staying there, and going down.  Maybe if I drank and smoked weed together, a delicate balance, sure, but surely It would stop, at least temporarily.

Or maybe, if I quit this job and got a new one.  A better one.  A job where reward was based on merit, and not who was related to the owner or fucking someone related to the owner.  If I made more money, would It stop?  But if you allow others lives to map out your own, you might just discover that working less might make It stop.  Money is not evil, a common misconception.  The time we give for money, however, can make It flare up, thus causing the illusion that money is evil.

What if I pursue my passion?  Despite the odds, despite the fear, despite the uncertainty.  Will It stop then?  Will It stop if my ultimate desires and capabilities merge at a peak?  There at the peak, will It stop?  If I surround myself with creative people, people like me, who’ve only really struggled with the man vs self conflict.  If I’m around people I admire, people who are also plagued by It, maybe then, could It stop?

A lover, maybe.  Meaningful sex, even if I’m unsure what that means, if I find that, perhaps love can stop It?  Or maybe I have this all wrong.  Sex, meaningless, drunk sex, that can stop It, can it not?  No, no this is all wrong.  All wrong.  It’s solitude.  Solitude is the answer.  In the quiet, lonesome night, where there’s no sound, just the moon looking down on you… yes, for a moment there, It stopped.

If I just get over this hump, if I reach the next level, if I get there… maybe advancing can smother It.  Why not?  If I take more chances, work harder, make sacrifices, surely there’s a combination here that will work.  If I let my passions kill me, and my friends lean on me.  Just make It stop.

Sometimes the right song at the right moment suspends It, like a wizard casting a spell to repel It.  And I’ve lost count on how many times a fantastic sky saved my day.  Could be a gig, an audience.  Or laughing with friends.  Wrapped in a blanket, watching a TV show, knowing the alarm clock isn’t set for the morning.  Yes, there are times when It is completely forgotten.

It doesn’t define you, that’s what they’ve told me.  It doesn’t define you.  But doesn’t It?  Doesn’t It define me?  As much as my sarcasm, or the chip in my tooth, or how I run my hands through my hair when I’m uncomfortable.  As much as I love going to the movies, or am moved by the sea, or love to bond with people over the fascination of the multiverse… yes, as much as this defines me, It defines me just the same.  Coded in my DNA, It is a part of me.  The part of me I hide.  The part of me I expose in confessions in the form of a blog.

The depression which comes with the sobering realization that there is no stopping It, comes a new sort of calming awareness.  Accepting what has always been and always will be, that instead of fighting It, denying It, stopping It, you just live with It.  Live with It, and when it’s so awful, cling to truths.  The truth that everything in nature has an opposite.  It has an opposite too, does It not?  Yes, there is comfort in It.  That, well… that just makes It a little easier to deal with.