low lows.

a song to set the scene // minuscule by jiří horák

I was having what I call one of my low lows.

Snotty nosed and once again hiding in the closet, knees pulled up to my chest and drowning in waves of sadness, I found myself in this all too familiar place feeling these all too familiar feelings.

I was lost, alone, and scared.

Of what?

I didn’t know.

But my body, and the terrified little girl inside, was afraid of something out there.

I don’t know how to help you anymore.

I don’t understand why you’re feeling this way.

What would help you right now?

Your life is so brilliant and beautiful, what could you possibly have to be sad about?

Why. Why? Why are you feeling this way?

Unable to process what brought me to this fetal position in the first place, I was at a loss for words.

How could I possibly explain to others what was wrong if I couldn’t even understand it myself?

On top of feeling the way I was feeling, I then had the corrupt chorus of self-hatred slither its way inside of me.

You’re a dissapointment, a failure.

You have a problem, and it needs fixing.

It’s always your fault.

It’s always my fault.

Carving cuts into my already too tender heart, I realized that the thing I was now hiding from, the thing that scared me most wasn’t something out there, but something in here.

I was turning into that very beast:

The one who, instead of holding that petrified little girl in the corner, was berating her, blaming her, and lashing out at her because they didn’t get it, didn’t understand.

I was becoming that thing which scared me most: the thing that believed she needed fixed, her emotions managed, her disregulation understood.

Of course I couldn’t see that in the moment.

All I saw, all I felt was anxious, depressed, and deep in the depths of my low lows: weeping, sleeping, and wishing the day would wash away and I would float down an ocean of tears like Alice.

I knew something then though: this soft little girl craved something.

To be held, loved, appreciated, or comforted.

Because she was terrified… of herself.

Stuck in fear, I stayed cocooned in bed for the rest of the day, emotionally exhausted and physically spent.

I didn’t know what could possibly help.

Little did I know, that it was good ole fashioned play that would resonate with that trembling traumatized young part of me.

My gem, lost as to how to help me, tried what would become the most bizarre, and yet somehow also the most memorable thing to bring me back home.

Crawling on top of me, he announced, to no one in particular:

“Today, I am going to show you how to prepare an Elan.”

Starting from my toes, and working his way up my body, he spoke in the most ridiculous accent and described the “most tender” parts of “an Elan.”

Julienning here, chopping there, and massaging this part here, I couldn’t help but sneak a smile.

Of course, as soon as he saw me try to hide my contagious grin, the “Chef’s preparation” became even more outrageous.

It was nothing I expected, yet everything I never knew I needed.

Discarding arms (to be used in a stock pot), and massaging bellies (the tastiest part of an Elan), it was turning into the best medicine.

Unbeknownst to me, my gem was activating what’s called the brain’s “play circuit.”

His actions were triggering a part of my brain that motivated me to engage in the playfulness surrounding me.

I mean, it’s no surprise that play does wonders on the brain.

Known to reduce stress, release endorphins, and improve brain functionality, playing isn’t just for kids though: it’s integral in the health and well-being of clearly adults too.

I’ll never know what prompted my gem to do what he did (and I don’t think he knows either) but I learned something invaluable that day: sometimes all a scared little girl needs is a little comfort, a little care, and apparently, a whole lot of play.

what happens in Vegas...

a song to set the scene // viva las vegas by elvis presley

What was the most spontaneous thing you’ve ever done?

My gem and I were tucked into a coffee shop in Old Town Vegas, escaping the torrential wind and rain.

We were on vacation, in the City of Sin for a wedding (not ours!), and in front of us lay a pile of conversation cards, meant for inspiring slow moments and lasting connections.

Well I certainly knew what my answer was, which was something along the lines of sneaking into a state park after hours and skinny dipping with my friends.

I was more curious, however, as to what my gem thought was the most spontaneous thing he had ever done.

(as he’s not the most spontaneous fellow)

Naturally, he came up with nothing.

Lucky for him, he had me, and I could think of one particular and memorable instance in which he recently partook in a bit of improvisation.

You know what they say about Vegas?

“What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas” ?

In what better place then, to let loose and imbibe with The Green Fairy than the fabulous Last Vegas.

And that’s where this story starts: in a circus tent just outside of Caesars Palace.

My gem and I had just sat down for the show:“Absinthe.”

Having wanted to see some sort of show in Vegas, and my gem (for some reason) not as excited to go see “Thunder From Down Under” with me, a friend had recommended that we go and see this show.

Drawn in with descriptive words like raunchy, rowdy, and racy, we bought tickets right away.

And so, on the night of, we took our seats and became dazzled by the Gazillionaire and all of his extraordinary exhibitionists.

In an intimate setting, we watched in awe at the mix of carnival and spectacle; laughing and letting loose of all inhibitions at this adults-only comedy unfolding before us.

At some point during the show, the Gazillionaire asked us a question: “I want to see what you would do for free booze!”

(as the show was best enjoyed with libations)

So, he called on a Mom & Pop Kansas City couple to do a dance off with another couple.

As he was looking for this “other couple”, I suddenly raised my hand and volunteered.

“What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas!”

He called us up then, dubbing us the “fashion couple” in all of our “seventies drapery”, and my gem and I made our way to the circular stage.

Standing in a sea of a couple hundred intoxicated guests, I took a seat and waited, for my gem was about to perform a lap dance on me.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen my guy blush as hard as he did.

Grinning in all of his glory (no doubt cursing at me in his head), the music started and suddenly, he was dancing.

I’ll save you the details (some things are just better left to the imagination), but he done good.

There was grinding and leg spreading, touching and twerking. It was absolutely glorious.

And there isn’t a single shred of evidence to show for it.

As we graciously accepted our Latvian Love Potion reward, we watched the rest of the show on a high.

Lasting well into the night, we felt like celebrities as members of the audience came up to us and congratulated us on our epic performance.

So when my gem, some days later, was sitting in a coffee shop thinking of the most spontaneous thing he’s ever done, I reminded him of this.

“Oh yeah,” he blushed.

Oh yeah is right.

The most spontaneous thing we’ve ever done together happened to be in the city where it will always stay.

The phrase,“What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas,” though meant to forgive and escape indiscretions and devilish behavior, is also meant to inspire spontaneity.

The idea is that when you’re in Vegas, you get a little freaky, you do something you maybe would never do anywhere else.

And the city, she keeps her lips shut. There’s no record that it ever happened.

Like my gem’s lap dance, there will never be any proof that it actually went down.

(pun always intended)

But I know, and he knows, and the audience there that night certainly knows, that things got a little frisky up there on that stage.

And that memory will be with me forever, no matter where I go.