Present Over Perfect

snorkeling at one of the most beautiful beaches in the world.
And I was choking on my aggressive, almost violent self-
loathing.
Something unlocked. When Henry and I got back to the
shore, over the kids’ heads, I said softly to Aaron,
“Something needs to change. I can’t live like this anymore.
We can’t. They can’t.”
He squeezed my hand. “We’re on it, baby, whatever it
takes.”
When we got home, I went back to my counselor, talked
about it with the Cooking Club and the people who know
me best. I told the truth, as honestly as I could, over and
over. I kept talking, kept asking for help, kept going back to
the counselor, kept learning new ways to heal old wounds.
As I drove deep and deeper into my own heart, my past,
my feelings and memories, a few things began to make
sense. First, the ongoing chaos, the lifelong preference for
busyness and ear-splitting volume: who wouldn’t rather
drown out that inner vein of self-hatred? Who wouldn’t
rather try to outrun it? Who wouldn’t simply turn the knob
on the stereo and let the music drown it out?
Well, maybe some people wouldn’t. Maybe some people
would stoop down to pet it like a stray cat, pick it up, learn
about it. Those people are psychological miracles. I,
however, chose to outrun and overstuff my life to avoid the
darkness.
No wonder silence terrified me. No wonder I ran from
activity to activity. That day at the Tunnels I was essentially