Dear Rudy,
I’m finding myself angry that even with all of these letters, the healing isn’t happening. It isn’t coming. It’s not even hinting at being on the way. It’s a complete no-show. My wounds are gaping and instead of doing something to slow the bleeding I’m writing bloody letters as if that’s going to change a thing. I wonder if I’ve even got the right idea of what healing is in the first place. In my mind there’s always been a certain amount of time to strive for, like once I get to that time things will start to feel normal again.
Like, I thought time was supposed to heal. What a bullshit idea that is. The only thing the past year has done is draw out the spaces in between. I might go hours without thinking of what happened, instead of minutes. Maybe eventually it will be days or even weeks. That’s not healing though, is it. It’s not even close. One of the few places that makes me feel as though there is space in between is Robins.
I worked there today. It’s funny how that place and Aggie can feel so normal now, when a month or two ago I would have felt as though I’d die from embarrassment to be working there. I guess we adapt, even those of us who aren’t usually so adaptable.
Aggie was quiet today. She said she wasn’t feeling so well, and it felt like she meant emotionally rather than physically. She mentioned not getting onto the bill at a festival in Brisbane she’d been hoping for, so maybe that was it. She said there were only three female performers in a lineup of over thirty, and all thirty of the acts were white. That can’t be an accident by the organisers, it had to be a conscious choice. So I knew she was dealing with that, but I still have this awful way of catastrophising things in my head and making it all about me, without even meaning to. I’m so used to studying the way people act and trying to figure out what it might mean I guess, and the completely wrong answer feels as weird to me as the completely right one. Like, I felt absolutely certain Aggie was mad at me, I could taste it in my mouth and I let it sink all the way down to the pit of my stomach. I thought about all of the ways I had been selfish and terrible to her, not asking her enough about herself or talking too much about my own stuff. I had tears in my eyes by the time Aggie asked me what was wrong, and when I told her she reacted like it was the most ridiculous thing she’d ever heard. She explained that wasn’t the case at all, she was just upset about the festival, and she was in her own head, and that I must have been in my own head as well.
She put on a playlist of Aboriginal musicians to help her feel inspired and me feel better. It worked. ‘Anthem’ by Tiddas was incredible, and ‘January 26’ by A. B. Original was brilliant and catchy as heck. It was hard to shake the wedge I’d imagined between us, and the feeling hung around me for the rest of my shift. That’s why I find people tiring, I guess. There’s so much work to figuring out how each different person thinks and feels.
The longer I know someone, the less I’m like this. It’s why I need you around, Rudy. You are supposed to be around. I know that sounds like pressure, and maybe it is. Maybe I’m supposed to figure it out on my own.
I miss you.
Love, Erin