One Night in Polson

For anyone who has never been to Polson, Montana, I highly recommend a visit.  It's gorgeous.  Rocky Mountains, Flathead Lake, small-town charm, and really good people.

I find it ironic that one of my ugliest (if not THE ugliest) moments happened right smack dab next to one of the most beautiful parts of creation (Flathead Lake - did I mention it's beautiful?) in 2006.  If you read my earlier entry (about my poor neighbors), then consider this my deeply honest and vulnerable follow-up.

For some (or most, maybe?) who read this, it might come as a surprise...and that's exactly why I want to share it.

Because life is not a gymnastics meet.

This memory is personal, and it takes courage for me to share....and yet I am feeling very compelled to do so.  I think this feeling stems from frustration at our society being so full of stigma and judgment for what the rest of us like to call "real life". 

I'll preface by saying that at the time of my "one night in Polson" (that you'll get to read about soon!) I had moved across the country to follow a guy I'd dated only a few months (not Brian), lived with his family, started a new job, moved in with new roommates, and was completely co-dependent... (and even just writing all that makes me laugh in disbelief.)

It was said guy's birthday, Thanksgiving weekend, his sister was visiting from college, his grandmother had been admitted to the hospital....and I was secretly fuming....about a list of things that have nothing to do with birthdays, family or turkey.  And I had no idea it was happening.

And I drank.  A lot.  I drank at Thanksgiving dinner, I drank while playing games after dinner, I drank at the bar we went to after the games after the dinner.  I drank while we played air hockey in the bar............................ and that's ...................................... when .............................................I lost it.  

The air hockey game, that is.

And then my senses.

Losing that air hockey game unwittingly became my window of opportunity to throw the biggest curve ball to said guy that he didn't see coming.  I hurled words at him that I didn't even know I was capable of saying.  Probably every third to fifth word was the f-bomb, my voice was louder than the music, my gestures took up more space than the people next to me probably preferred, and said guy just stood with a look of horror and confusion and quickly pulled me out of the bar (and out of sight from his sister and friends).

And I kept yelling.  And now we were outside.  And in earshot of a cop, evidently, because I remember a police car pulling up and the cop asking us if everything was ok?  I remember simultaneously feeling disconnected from the words coming out of my mouth, and inside saying to myself, "What is happening?!?!?!"  It was absolutely terrifying at the time.  For everyone involved.  Maybe not the cop...

"hmmmmm......"

Anyway, said guy walked me home, put me in the garage bedroom, and went back out to the bar.  Meanwhile, I drunk-dialed Caroline, told her what happened through choking streams of tears, and tried to hold back from vomiting.  In the middle of the night, I had to go to the bathroom and conveniently found that I was locked out of the house....so I had to resort to squatting on the side of the garage ............... peeing ................... in Polson, Montana.

And that's when I knew something was seriously wrong.

Have I mentioned this was my darkest night?

It's been long enough now and life has evolved to the point that I actually can laugh about all this, while still recognizing the serious lessons that it entailed.  [The squatting on the side of the garage always gets Brian :) ]

Why have I shared all this?  Because I heard that same anger in my neighbor's voice this morning.  And it's so easy to judge.  And all I want to do is take her out to coffee, and let her hear some of the most liberating words I've known: "I know, because I've been there."

I want us to do more of this.   Share.  Be real.  Let it all hang out with those we love.

And not be judged, but instead be understood.


...and just for the record, now when I feel like screaming, I try to aim for a pillow instead of the bar :)