Elisabeth Writing

I’ve been wondering about how my teenage self would view this life I’ve grown into and made with my own hands. 

My teenage self was a mess. Dramatic and unstable. And I know you’re thinking, “oh, so she’s like you… now?” I get it. I get why you’d think that I hadn’t matured or changed but trust me, if you knew Teen Liz – oh, you’d see the difference. You think I’m bad now? Ha. You wouldn’t even fucking believe it. 

I posted photos of myself half naked with glitter on my cheeks (again – I know it’s not seeming like much has changed).  I tortured boys for the pleasure of making myself feel better. I made my MySpace name something stupid like “SpellBell  will *never* fall in love with you” – and yes that’s nearly exactly what my username  was, don’t judge me. Or fuck, go ahead. I deserved it.  

I was thin, blonde and hungry. I was so goddamn hungry for attention, affection and affirmation. Like, please, someone look at me and tell me I am worthy. But even when they did, even when they got on their knees and worshiped me, it still wasn’t enough. I’ve come to realize that nothing would have been. But Teen Liz didn’t know that. Teen Liz just wanted – everything. All the pain, all the love, all the crushes, all the sex. She wanted that. She wanted to be a model for fuck’s sake. And maybe she could have been. That part I’ll never know. 

I’ll never know a lot of things about the life I could have had. My desires changed with the shifting of the wind. I wanted to be a doula, or a model, or a librarian. I wanted to live in New York, or maybe California, or maybe Ireland. I wanted to be with my first love, or maybe I wanted to be free? I wanted to get married or maybe never get married? 

I just… I didn’t know. I’m sure some teenagers know who they are, but I sure as fuck didn’t. I didn’t even know that I had bipolar disorder or that I was teetering on alcoholism. 

So I really don’t miss her. I mean, I miss her unlined face and the body that was lithe and young. I miss that feeling of power from being desired. I miss that feeling that anything could happen, that the possibilities were endless. 

But would Teen Liz see parts of my life and wish for them? 

I wonder… 

I think she’d be… appalled, shocked and – kind of pleased, in some way? 

14 years sober? Us? But what about the parties? We can’t even talk to people without being a little tipsy? We’re too quiet and odd. And how do we even have fun? Do we even party anymore? – Well, little one – because you’re little to me – here’s what I can tell you. Did it take a while for us to have fun without alcohol? Yes. We had to learn how to go through the world and deal with our trauma without being tipsy or drunk. Hell, we even bartended sober. I know – crazy. But we did it. And we learned to be around it without issues. Or at least, not too many. We’re actually more fun without alcohol. We don’t run off and disappear for hours and worry our friends. We don’t kiss a bunch of random girls and guys to fill the ache. We don’t get in terrible fights with our friends and lovers and family. Isn’t that a change of pace? And are we still quieter, still introverted, less likely to get on the pole or on the stage? Yes. On Saturday nights I’m more prone to curling up with my husband and our dog, Grimm. And you  know what? I’m happy with that. I don’t want to be the life of the party. I just want to have a life. 

Husband? Wait? What? Is it… is it who I think it is? –  No babe, it’s not him. It’s not anyone you know. And you won’t know him for a long time. Not until after you’ve grown up a bit. And darling, it’s going to be a long while until you grow up. To be honest, sometimes I don’t think I  – we – ever have. And we’ve been engaged three times. I see your jaw dropping and I can see you want to ask more but just – wait. As for our husband – my husband? Well, he’s kind; he’s sexy, funny and goofy. He makes us laugh constantly and when he plays guitar he looks very serious, as if he’s solving important, life-altering equations. In a way, I guess he is. We chase each other around the house and make each other yummy dinners and melt-in-your-mouth cookies. We travel to places together, like Massachusetts and Florida and Atlanta and New Orleans. Oh, yes, I see that sparkle in your eyes – yes, we loved New Orleans. We want to live there one day. Sometimes I just curl in his lap and let the tears come. He’s the most patient and loving man I know – besides dad. But no – no. Don’t ask me about him – about that. Not yet. Just know we found our soulmate… eventually. 

And we’re… a massage therapist? Not a model? Not a librarian? How the hell did that happen? Are we happy? Do we like it? – Modeling wasn’t in the stars for us. And that’s ok. It really is. I see you giving me that petulant, angry look; you wanted the flashing lights and the city. Honey, we would have been eaten alive. And I think you know that. As for how we got here? It took someone we loved getting sick, and a job that exhausted us to the point of breaking. We found a school, met with them and registered the same day for classes. It was meant to be, and I really believe that. And we are happy. It’s a wonderful career. We get to help people every day – physically and sometimes mentally. Our clients can unload on us. It can be… overwhelming and tiring at times. But it’s rewarding. And – the best part – we can show off our tattoos and our pink hair. 

Tattoos? Pink hair?? – Yes, sweets. We’ve got eleven tattoos – so far. We like them. It makes us feel sexy and confident. We get to be the canvas for other people’s art and that… that’s pretty cool. I mean, I think so at least. And yea, we’re kinda addicted to coloring our hair for the same reason. 

Awesome sauce. Wait can we go back to three proposals? Three? – I knew that you’d come back to this… Yea love. Three men. Three rings. Two heartbreaks. One divorce. One broken engagement. One wedding with masks and black and white, silver, anemones. One wedding with faerie wings and pink sapphires, a fairytale ending. And no, you don’t know any of these men now. One met you when you were young and still so hungry, still so lost. You loved him. But you didn’t love yourself. One met you at the hardest point of our lives, and you dove into the darkness with him without a second thought. You needed a different kind of pain. He taught you a lot: how you could bite back. How you were just another version of venomous. Then came therapy, witchcraft and a hell of a lot of healing before you met the man you’re with now. And you wouldn’t have met him without the darkness, without the healing, without the grief, without the knowledge. I know you know this but… it takes a while for us to learn our lessons. Sometimes we have to learn them multiple times, each a bit harder than the last. We’re stubborn as an ass, and no, you can’t argue with me about that.

You keep saying grief, and darkness, and loss. Who? Who do we lose? – Oh, love. We’re going to lose a lot of people. Friends, pets, family. But this loss? This is one I don’t want to burden you with. Just know that you’ll be ok. Eventually. I’m not going to lay this on you. You’re so young. You’ve got a lot of time before that one. Will you take my word for it? Squeeze the people you love a little more often. Write more cards and letters; save even more, because one day you’ll go through them and hold them to your heart. 

Fine. I guess. I have one more question, though. And you have to answer this. Are we… happy? – Right to the heart of it, huh? The simple answer is, yes. We’ve found a really lovely and peaceful place, at long last. We’re happy in that sense. But the clearer answer? We still struggle. We still have to take our medicine. We still cry, every winter, when we’re so tired of the snow. We still have dreams that we call “grey dreams” where we’re so depressed we can’t ever imagine not being in this pit of despair. And sometimes that’s our reality, too. That fucking darkness… it never really goes away. When we got diagnosed with bipolar… it explained a lot. But having the explanation doesn’t make the disorder go away. It just presents you with tools to help it. Sometimes they do, sometimes they don’t. There are times when it’s hard to get out of bed and the thought of going to work makes us want to scream. But I promise you – most of the time? We’re ok. We’re content. Especially in the pool during the summers. We kinda thrive there. Look… I could tell you so many things. I could warn you and shield you and beg you to do or not do certain things. Except, that’s not how life works. And what we go through happens to bring us here: to this strange and wonderful place. 

Just know this. No matter what you go through, what you see, what opportunities you miss, what things almost break you – I love you. No matter what. Now go off, sweet one. Go off and live. And know that I’ll be here. Waiting. And loving.