Levity

“Where there is serious work punctuated by levity – that’s where we find meaning.” — Jennifer Aaker

I have spent almost my entire life believing that, at my core, I was only darkness. 

I marveled at those who could light up a room by walking into it and accepted that I would never know what that was like. The pain of my past was too deep, and the nights spent trembling alone in terror had left their mark permanently.

Only when substances entered my system was I able to know what it felt like for the walls to come down finally and to feel free momentarily. I reveled in the nights on the dance floor as I watched the lights above me blur as if nothing mattered. Until the harsh light of day brought me back into the dark even more heavily than before.

A year ago, a friend and mentor of mine remarked that in all the years we had known each other, he had never heard me laugh. Instantly, I was brought back to the shame of my past. No matter how many years of therapy and work I had done, I still wasn’t able to show those around me who I was. 

But unlike in the past, it wasn’t anyone’s fault but my own. I was the one dimming my light, and in many ways, I still am.

My days feel different now. In a way that makes moments from my past almost seem surreal. Instead of sitting alone and waiting for the darkness to overtake me, I wake up each day with more mental clarity than I ever thought possible. I spend less time daydreaming about potential catastrophes and more time trying to be present with the world around me. 

I notice butterflies and sunsets. I listen to people’s laughter as they walk by. I try to feel the sun on my skin and each breeze that blows by.

The world around me is much lighter than before, yet something still holds me back from allowing myself to be the same.

Logically, I know that so much in this life doesn’t matter. Jobs will come and go, feelings aren’t permanent states, and we only have the present moment. I cannot control what others think of me, and I wouldn’t want to if I could. But I still can’t let go of the habits and patterns that cause me to hold myself back.

No matter how many challenging things I have survived, I still feel like I need to show the world how strong I am. Even in spaces where I have full permission to be playful, I almost hold onto an air of seriousness for protection. 

I judge my coworkers for telling jokes during meetings when there is work to be done. I worry more about proving my worth and masculinity while playing sports instead of enjoying the fact that I get to play. And on stage, while literallyperforming comedy, I care more about the structure of my performance than allowing myself to be in the moment.

Very few have seen who I am with the walls down. I make up silly dances and songs to make those around me laugh. I tell ridiculous stories and even more terrible jokes. I smile and laugh without fear of judgment because nothing else in the world matters more at that moment.

In the wake of the loss of each of my parents and others I have loved, it is hard not to wish I had allowed these parts of myself to be seen sooner. I wish I could have let down my guard more and showed them how much I truly loved them. But years ago, I didn’t even believe it possible to feel a moment of lightness, let alone be on the precipice of learning to allow it to experience that feeling regularly.

There comes a time in every person’s healing journey when they have to accept that they alone hold onto their own suffering and are unwilling to release it. Even after letting go of decades of stories and beliefs, I still feel myself holding back.

To get here, I first needed to learn grace, then permission, and now the challenge in front of me is the gift of levity. 

I know now that I wasn’t born or created to be darkness. Instead, I had to experience the dark in order to understand what it felt like to be light. 

I no longer want to refuse myself levity and joy out of fear that it may result in judgment or pain. I want to enjoy the freedom that I have fought so hard for.

In the words of one of my favorite songs, “Let me be lighter, I’m tired of being a fighter.” That is my wish for myself from now on.

With Love,

Clayton