Facing My Past to Get to My Future (part one.)
“Look where you’ve been to determine who you’re becoming.”
Is it a coincidence the plane couldn’t land?
Or that I didn’t want it to?
That I felt happier circling the skies in a sleep induced yet, contorted comfort than being on the ground in ATL?
Even though it was finally time to land, I pestered the Stewardesses for coffee. You may not want to, but you’ve got to wake up I told myself.
We landed. But the pilot worked for it and the passengers paid for it. It felt like sheer will alone that allowed that plane to land in the midst of a tornado level storm.
The airport I’ve always loved. It feels instantly welcoming to me. Atlanta-Hartsifield-Jackson-Memorial-International was the first airport I traveled out of irregularly as a wide eyed country kid for whom going to the airport for any reason was a BFD.
Every single road in this town is a fucking memory lane for me. Reminding me how subdued, shrinking and small I was when I lived here. How limited I allowed my thinking to be. Atlanta breeds complacency they told me, stagnation. About this, they have never lied.
This place reminds me how my vision for myself was constantly fueled by the desires of others, path chose by others. What about Atlanta scares me? What fears are still lingering here that I need to face? I know I’ve been called here to face my past in order to be granted access to my bright future. Intentional interrogation of what frightens us diminishes the power of fear over our lives instantly.
Am I afraid that by being here, I’ll morph back in to h.e.r.? Because you didn’t kill h.e.r., you know. You left h.e.r. here hoping she’d die. And she didn’t. And she’s looking for you and you have to kill h.e.r. Thats the work you’re here to do. Slash h.e.r. throat and walk way quietly.