Two Worlds
I have two names I go by: Linna and Linnie… the former being my government name and the latter being the nickname I’ve gone by since I was a little kid. What people know me by varies on where we met: childhood friends/family know me as Linnie, professionals know me as Linna, one jiu jitsu gym knows me by one or the other. Whichever name people use, both are correct, but it’s ironic how I constantly live in this state of duality with my identity… but isn’t that how life is in general? It’s too nuanced to be just one thing. Two truths can always exist at once: I’m happy and sad at the same time. I’m angry but grateful. I’m tired but inspired. You hurt me but I miss you.
Duality. Poetic in its own way… and I appreciate how complex life can be.
I live in two worlds at once. Most people don’t know this, or at least they think they do, but they never can understand it unless they’ve walked in my shoes. This isn’t some “main character” energy, but just a fact of the life that I live: a corporate job by day and a SAR job at… well… I’d say night, but it’s a 24/7 thing. But it’s the MAINTENANCE of these dual worlds that is slowly eroding away my spirit, like the sea against a cliffside. Two opposing forces… the immovable cliff being my everyday existence and the sea being search and rescue… relentless, never ending. A constant churn. Chaotic energy against a wall of rock that’s stood the test of time.
*****
My days are pretty routine… basic even. I wake up every day at 0700, crack open my caffeine of choice while I wait for the dog to do his business. Open the blinds to let sunlight in. Take my vitamins and check my email. I usually have about two hours to kill before work starts, so in that time I get a walk in, or head off to Crossfit, or make myself breakfast. Working from home has it’s perks, but in order for me to feel some semblance of normalcy (which I haven’t had since I left working in an office March of 2020), I keep these routines. I make my bed every morning. I put my dishes away. I force myself to get dressed into something besides sweatpants. I throw on shoes even though I don’t like shoes in the house because simply wearing them and putting on real clothes (even when the only place I’ll be going to is the grocery store) puts me in a productive mindset.
I start answering my emails and work on documents, then the calls come in. Missing person here… disaster imminent there. I stop whatever it is I’m doing and go; most things in life can wait, except the things that really count. When time isn’t on our side.
That’s the beginning of where my other world starts. It’s like my public-facing world pauses temporarily while I traverse into this other world where things are at their extremes. In this world, I see the horrible things other humans can do to each other, how cruel and unfair life can be to innocent people like children, and also the absolute BEST showcase of compassion. The extremes: the very worst of humanity juxtaposed to the very best. When people ask me why I do what it is I do, I tell them this. I explain that hate was the driving force that put that victim in that clandestine grave, or anguish is the reason why that person ended their life alone in the woods… but love from some perfectly good strangers will shepherd them home.
You see, there’s duality in this world, too.
But it’s not the events that happen so much as the emotional whiplash that occurs after you return to your work desk to continue finishing that document or spreadsheet you left behind. It’s like jumping into an ice bath of emotions, then running back into a sauna. Then you have this entire apology tour you have to give to an audience who doesn’t understand:
“Sorry, I missed your meeting. I was watching someone’s entire life crumble from something that will change their lives forever.”
“Sorry, I missed your baby shower. I really wanted to be there, but unprecedented flooding killed children at a summer camp, and I just thought my energy would be a downer.”
“I know I’m late in delivering this report, but I’m exhausted from the constant, unrelenting workload of this unpaid job I got myself into, and people depend on me.”
“I’m sorry, all I ever talk about is this, and I seem like I don’t care about you… I do… but I’m ruminating on this moral crossroads I’m at, and I don’t know what to do, so I’m going to hijack every conversation.”
I’m back at my desk trying to fire up my emails again, looking at the chat and missed conversations on Microsoft Teams: “Hey, can you call me when you’re back at your desk?” “Oh, sure! I’ll be free in five minutes,” I say as I’m wiping tears away from my eyes and re-applying makeup from the good cry I had driving home. Sometimes that’s the antidote to everything: a nice good cry.
And just like that, I’m back in my other world. Like nothing happened. Just miles away, in that other world, a mother is begging God this world she’s found herself thrown into is a nightmare she’ll wake up from, while I sit at my desk with my spreadsheets and meetings. A piece of me remains in that world with her, too.
The biggest hearts are always the heaviest.
*****
Sometimes I feel like I can’t talk about it openly to the people outside of my circle. I know this is common among first responders: you don’t want to traumatize other people, you don’t think people will understand, or you’re not allowed to talk about it. And because of that, it’s easy to feel like you’re unseen. Invisible. You don’t want the pitty, because that feels yucky. You just want the understanding that someone’s not going to expect a whole lot out of you for the next day or two.
This is why I appreciate people like my friend and training partner, Simona. Because I know I can tell her I’m off and she won't pressure me to be completely present with her. Instead of us using our brains 50/50 during jiu jitsu training, she’s going to do 75% of the thinking while I just simply “exist” for a moment. I respect her so much for that.
It’s hard to find friends who will do that. It’s hard to find lovers who will understand that, who won’t mistake your absentmindedness as being aloof, but will accept that I’m processing something heavy, even when words fail me. That although I’m quiet or silly on the outside, my mind is doing gymnastics to rectify the duality of my experiences… to have patience with me until it can calm and I can be present again. This has been the Achilles Heel of so many of my romantic partnerships and friendships. I’m absolutely certain that my partner of 3.5 years left me largely because of this.
After these heavy events, I know to seek out friends and immediately rely on my coping mechanisms. I preach this stuff to my team, I’m trained and experienced on it. Gym, jiu jitsu, walks (I go on a LOT of walks), talking with friends. It always helps anchor me back in this world. I practice mindfulness and visualization while showering in the dark to reset my nervous system. Talking to my friend, Jessica, the other night on the phone, she describes a world to me where I come home, and I rest my head on someone’s chest. I don’t do the dishes, I don’t fix the faucet, I don’t make dinner… someone else does these things for me temporarily so I can just decompress. It sounds divine; a dream come true.
I never told my ex how much I appreciated it when she did those things for me while she was around, and that is my failure to own up to. The day I fell in love with her was October of 2021, when I came home from a long, hard day on the Bayou, and she greeted me with a skillet of homemade nachos. I know I’ve told this story before, but it bears repeating. It wasn’t the nachos (but man, they were sooooo gooood), it was the effort. It was the understanding that I didn’t have the capacity… to take the lead for a moment. She understood the assignment, but I think she grew tired of watching pieces of me be left behind each time I came back to our world that we shared. I became less and less present. I failed to choose a world to stay in, and now she’s in none of my worlds.
And I think about that world when I take my dark showers or when I go to sleep at night or when I’m exhausted. This ONE world I get to live in: it’s a fall evening. The sunset is a brilliant amalgamation of oranges and purples that saturate the fluffy Houston clouds. The air is crisp, the windows are open, and the drapes are blowing gently in the wind. There are two glasses of red wine on the table, and the house smells of oranges and spices. It’s neither daylight nor nightime… but twilight. The time between worlds. The streetlights are just starting to come on, and the sounds seem louder than they are, as the voices of the neighborhood kids carry farther into the chilly evening air. “Welcome home…” is the sweet song I hear the moment I walk through the door. I feel warm in the glow of the lights in my home. In the presence of someone who loves me without condition and anchors me in this one world we share.
One world… It’s all I dream of.
It’s the small things. It’s the nachos in a skillet. It’s a hot bath drawn for me when I walk through the door, all grimy from work. It’s an empty seat with a glass of water and a cocktail waiting for me… a special seat reserved just for me. It’s lying my head on someone's lap as I fall asleep, no expectations of me entertaining them. It’s a hot toddy placed in my cold hands, after freezing in a field at night. I guess what it really boils down to is just wanting, for a moment, for people not to depend on me. Nobody’s life is in my hands. Projects aren’t going to succeed or fail. The world will keep going without my intervention. I want at least in ONE of my worlds to be soft… gentle. To lay my worries at someone’s feet and just be present in this one world. I’ve been fighting for so long… I want someone to convince me to stay. To tell me I’ve done enough. Good job. Well done. Let me rest. Let me be weak, just for a moment in time.
So for any of you who also live in two worlds, I see you.
