(E)merging (2023)
Often change comes when one is done putting up with what they believe they no longer deserve, maybe never did. But for that to happen, the sphere of pessimism must evoke a desire for a life of optimism.
BY JULIA VELLUCCI
IMAGE BY EBRU KUR
I used to want her to leave, disappear, and vanish without a trace. As time passes, one’s perception of things alters. The experiences life brought me, good and bad, can be blamed for that.
I wonder if I held the door wide open for her and pushed her through, locking all entryways behind, if I would still be my true self.
I once dreamed of a better life where I didn’t have feelings, couldn’t feel things, was numb to the bone. I’m not referring to physical pain that one knows will eventually be gone for good but emotional pain that has no precise end date, if one at all. I desired to turn my emotions off like a light switch. I desperately wanted to build a boat so I could always be on top of my tears, see them, not feel them.
Yet it wasn’t a boat I needed but wood. Wood to give me the option to build a plank to be more than just my sadness alone when optimism, hope, and opportunity awaited me. However, sometimes I just want to sit on the plank and dip my toes in the emotion, not my entire self because as emotions are experienced, life still happens, good and bad, positive and negative. But when I need to reflect, I will jump off that plank, feel it all, absorb it all and leave it all behind. I’d feel the dark depths of the water, how choppy the waves are and be tempted to give into them. Just as I’d be tempted to give in, I’d appreciate the dry land more where less struggle is felt but manage to hold my breath and enjoy the cool, brisk water and take in the ripples of the waves as I'd swim back towards the plank. I'd pull myself up with my arms after feeling all the emotions, all parts of me and not being afraid of it. A boat wouldn’t have the same effect, as I’d become dependent on it to carry me when I didn’t always have access to that boat. That support system that was much easier to find within myself.
Like the plank of wood that let me see both the world and myself without others fully getting the same grasp of me, the majority of my life I spent in a cocoon. It was thin enough for me to see into the outside world but not thin enough for me to fully be in it. I was okay with that as I feared being judged by what I could see. Most didn’t pay much attention to me. It was as if I hardly mattered although that was far from the truth.
Slowly, I peeked out from the cocoon, my head poking through the thin layers. It was just enough for a few people to see me. I presented myself to them and was comfortable around them until they gave me reason not to be. I tried to go back into the cocoon but from peeking out, I left a hole behind. Anyone could look at me through this hole, but until I let them in, nobody knew the true story. This hole in the cocoon never told the whole story, making me feel out of place. Besides reaching out my hand to those I care about and trust through the cocoon, the hole resulted in more judgement than feeling understood.
It became rarer and rarer that I’d let people in. Once I was comfortable with someone, I’d be happy with just that person or a few people in my close circle. A circle is a shape with no beginning or end and because of that, it can be easy for people to make their own unexpected exit and vice versa if they bring you down and aren’t doing any good in your life.
I didn’t like the idea of this version of me that missed out on plenty experiences. She was so closed off to many who walked all over her and left an imprint on the way out. I liked the idea of saving her from the cruel world of uncertainty but to save her was to live a life that would never be full. To save her meant never leaving the cocoon, never showing off her gorgeous wings that were meant to soar in the ever so blue skies, bright, cloudy, rainy, dark, and with a rainbow displayed.
She wasn’t meant to be saved, but not meant to go either. In the depths of the cocoon, she could see and hear details most couldn’t. She had deep thoughts because she was left alone most of the time. Her mind would wander to depths unknown that one could easily drown in, but it belonged to her, and nobody understood it and loved it more than she did. She saw things one who truly lived and put themselves out into the world, into new experiences never could, that’s why it was called a fantasy land. Different colours, shapes and even mythical creatures meant different things to her, provided her with comfort reality often couldn’t, not when she kept herself so far from it anyways.
With time did more people notice the cocoon. Not in a way that made this shadow-like version of me content but in a way I’d find her frowning and constantly overthinking due to the opinions of others that often labelled her as a misfit, a shy girl, the observer, the girl in the corner, basically the girl who isn’t me anymore.
Often change comes when one is done putting up with what they believe they no longer deserve, maybe never did. But for that to happen, the sphere of pessimism must evoke a desire for a life of optimism.
She couldn’t take it anymore. The cocoon no longer had a hole, breaking in half as a result. She didn’t know what to do or exactly how to act, only that she couldn’t stay hidden anymore. It was a step in the right direction and that was all that mattered. Slowly she began to flap her wings as she spoke more and slowly became more outgoing, started displaying the parts of herself only those in her close circle and those in her fantasy world knew.
A friend once told me that having the best of both worlds can be possible. She was referencing a song from a show we grew up with along with a simple story that made sense, yet it stuck with me. Although she wasn’t talking directly to me about it, I felt what she was saying through the more outgoing version I choose to present myself as. This is the same version she was probably the first person to tell me she admired.
It took meeting someone who reminded me of the girl I once wanted to leave behind to remember that girl is just as important as the present. People may not have seen or understood all she was but those deserving did. Even now, I present the talkative, creative, kind, insightful and caring version of myself but I don’t forget about the version of me who has felt like my best friend.
I don’t like the term best friend even if I feel that person is mine. I will never call someone my best friend unless they call me that first. After all, anyone I’ve seen in that way didn’t stay. But the shy girl who saw and heard things nobody else did, let her imagination and optimism see the world differently than the average person, deserves that title. She'll always make it easy to smile at the little things life has to offer and sees the change everyone can bring to the world when working together. She may not be the full version of me but she’s a vital part of me. I now realize this part was more for me to see and understand than everyone else. This version of me is where my insecurities and vulnerability mainly are.
The experiences life brought me, good and bad, can be thanked for me learning a lot about myself. Although I like this new version of me, feel like my true self is exposed and not hidden behind the fantasies in my head or in the shadows of a room, I can’t forget about the part of me that understands this new version of me more than anyone ever will. Due to this, it’s possible to live both in the present and the past.
The past makes us who we are, and the future will too, as there is always room for more growth. A combination of the past and the future, which is what comes next, makes up the present; separate worlds that are meant to not be apart but together. After all, that mighty butterfly found her place in the sky yet still returns every once in a while to what will always be a big part of her home: the little cocoon.
Julia Vellucci is a first-year Humber student in the Journalism Advanced Diploma program. She has several novels published with Ukiyoto Publishing and aims to make her mark in this world through words as she believes words are much more powerful than actions.
Image: (E)merging (Ebru Kur, 2023)
Edited for publication by Vanessa Rolson, as part of the Bachelor of Creative and Professional Writing program.
HLR Spotlight is a collaboration between the Faculty of Media & Creative Arts and the Faculty of Liberal Arts & Sciences and Innovative Learning at Humber College in Toronto, Ontario. This project is funded by Humber’s Office of Research & Innovation.