Settle Into the Unknowing

I have not interviewed one person for this blog that I have known personally prior to interviewing them — Annie is no exception. A friend of mine posted her blog post on Facebook a few weeks ago, and after reading this first sentence, I knew I needed an introduction:

“A year ago I committed to blowing my own mind. I did not want to wait for someone else to come along before life could be fun. I did not want to wait to get my dream job to be fulfilled. I did not want to wait for an invitation to do cool shit.”

The following is my interview with Annie Hamilton.

Annie is a runner/sister/foodie, who loves to bike around Boston, and occasionally wears bowties. She resides in Brookline but feels a very strong connection to the Tybee Island, Georgia.

Tell me the story of how you got to where you are in the form of a haiku.

brave. be brave. be brave.

wake up and start the new day.

brave. be brave. be brave.

What’s the hardest part about being an adult for you?

About a month after graduation I was standing in the middle of Boston’s Contemporary Art Institute when I experienced an intense existential crisis. I was overwhelmed with the brevity of life. My heart was pounding, pressure was building behind my eyes, and I was struggling to breath. I was having my first panic attack.

Luckily my new friend walked up to me and asked, “What do you think is happening in this painting?” and I was immediately pulled back into the present moment.

Since then, I have fallen in love with an advice podcast called Dear Sugar. Cheryl Strayed and Steve Almond graciously answer people’s questions. I find their compassionate voices calming and grounding. Early on, when Cheryl was working for The Rumpus she received a letter that asked “WTF, WTF, WTF? I’m asking this question as it applies to everything every day.” I often feel this way. I believe this was the root of my panic attack. I am struggling to fill my days with things that I find meaningful and fulfilling. Often life feels like one giant WTF. I no longer have a script to follow. At times this is exhilarating. Other times it is paralyzing.

“The fuck is your life. Answer it.” Cheryl Strayed wisely replied.

The fuck IS my life. This is it. So, what now?

What would you do if you weren’t afraid to fail?

I do not think I fear failure, I fear the rejection that I associate with failing. I fear being unloved or unwanted.

But fear is a weird thing. I have an uncanny ability to shut off the parts of myself that feel fear, discomfort and embarrassment. When I am in the middle of doing something risky, often it feels like I am floating outside of myself watching the action take place.

The first time I remember this happening was in the 6th grade when a boy I thought I had a crush on asked me to be his girlfriend. I didn’t blush and my heart didn’t race. Instead I watched myself play it really cool- I shrugged and said, “Okay”.

Part of this under reaction could have been from an underlying queerness not quite ready to be acknowledged. But even without any sexual tension, this situation should have produced some sort of emotional reaction. We were surrounded by middle school children, peer pressure was at an all time high, and boys had cooties. But instead of embracing the embarrassment, my body shut off. I felt nothing.

This coping mechanism has allowed me to do a lot of things that normally would paralyze me because I fear rejection. I have gone skinny dipping, preformed well in athletic events, talked in front of rooms of strangers, told way too many people about my feelings for them, and navigated new social settings. All things that scare me at some level because I fear the rejection connected to failure. But when the actual physical symptoms of fear are no longer present I am able to more forward easily.

While useful, I am not sure if I want to cultivate this skill. Instead I want to be filled with fear and move forward anyways. I want to experience the heart-pounding terror of being in love or taking a risk. I have been missing a whole spectrum of human emotions that would connect and deepen my relationships, especially my relationship with myself.

So to answer your question, what one thing would I do if I were not afraid to fail? I would feel fear. And if that means, for a while, I am overwhelmed and paralyzed by emotion, I will welcome that new experience. I would rather be stuck by emotional authenticity than continue to move forward with artificial numbness. So bring on the sweaty palms, racing hearts, and flushed cheeks. I’m ready for life to begin.

We all have things that we want to learn, whether it’s how to play the guitar or how to code a website — if you could choose something to start teaching yourself today, what would it be?

I want to learn to play the harmonica. I think it would be a fun party trick.

If you could give one piece of advice to your 22-year-old, just-graduated self, what would it be?

At the wise age of 24 I would look back and say, “Chill the fuck out.” Life is big and scary and it is going to take time to figure out. Settle into the unknowing. Embrace the newness. You will be okay.

Tell me a story about meeting someone that changed your life.

I don’t remember meeting the person that changed my life. But she remembers meeting me. I was blobby and cried too much.

Growing up my big sister, Maggie, and I spent a lot of time playing together. And while she would practice tweezing my eyebrows or allow me to be the supporting role in her make believe stories, I often felt like I was watching her cool and awesome life happen from afar.

I became my sister’s friend 12 years after our initial meeting. Maggie had just gotten her license. It was still dark out as we headed to a swim meet on the other side of Atlanta. We were crusin’ through our small town about to merge onto the highway. Tom Petty was blasting from our blown out speakers. We were so engrossed in our karaoke experience that we did not notice the blue flashing lights in the rearview window.

Maggie got a speeding ticket. We both cried. But as we merged on to the highway, “American Girl” restarted and Maggie resumed her belting. In that moment, the music swirled around me and I cried even harder. For once, I was not crying because we were going to be in trouble. Instead I was overwhelmed because for the first time, I was inside the car. I was riding shotgun. I was part of my sister’s adventures. It was the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

Would you rather: be unable to tell your lefts from your rights OR be incapable of telling time on an analogue clock?

Incapable of telling analogue time. For sure. I love my digital watch and would be totally fine without knowing where the hands point. Now that I think about it, I am not sure if I know how to read an analogue clock anyways.