Stretching My Parts to Denver
10.18.2023 7am | SEATAC Airport, Seattle, USA
Dear friend,
I’m the girl at Gate A4, sitting on the floor, stretching by the window. It’s dark outside. I’m wearing my comfy pajamas and I will stretch until my flight leaves for Denver in one hour.
A Starbucks cup is sitting beside me too hot to touch. The green tea comforts me this morning as I leave my parents less than 48hrs after I picked them up at the airport. This is what life is like in a family of adventurers. The airport shuttle should add an extra stop at our front door, one of us is always flying away somewhere. It’s rare for us all to be at home together.
My parents and I have spent one day together. My dad and I drank coffee and talked about photography. My mom gave me really good hugs and she’ll feed my cat while I’m away. We all woke up at 4am to get me to Sea-Tac airport for this flight to Denver. Before we left the house I wandered around confused, forgetting how to dress myself for winter. Both of my parents offered me their winter jackets. Moms was too small. Dads is too big. I settled on an old sweater that reminds me of my husband and the night we got engaged. I’ll hug it on the plane and whenever I need to feel close to something warm.
The little girl in my misses them all already. The adults running my show are keeping me together but I still hear that little girl whispering, “Already? So soon. But we just got home!” I tell her “We’ll be back soon,” and I hope I’m speaking the truth. I don’t know the future. Time is pricking me with its preciousness this month.
What will I do in Denver? Why am I leaving my beloveds? Because I have so many loves around the world I can never be with them all at once. I’m riding this airmobile to Denver so I can sit on the couch and walk around the neighborhood with Lindsay, my intimate friend, therapist and writing coach aka book doula. This woman held my hand as I climbed out of hell. She introduced me to Internal Family Systems. When we’re together, we will talk in “parts language”.
“My parts are so happy to see you in person!”
“A part of me is sad this morning and a part of me is excited!”
“A part of me loves being a mom and a part of me wishes I could travel more.”
“A part of me loves the unknown and a part of me wants to get cozy on the couch with kids.”
Who are all these parts; these people inside me talking all the time? I call them my parts and I’ve given them names. Ive been getting to know them, creating with them since 2020. They’ve been inside me for much longer though, perhaps since the very beginning.
It was natural for me to make artwork, music especially at first, to express what these parts were feeling. A part of me paints. She loves dancing too. Another part likes writing. Another part loves photography.
Over the past seven or so years, I’ve created a fantasy world through my music and one by one my parts have stepped into it. It’s become a place they can go play; a safe spot in my imagination. Now my stories are making their way into a novel.
On the airport floor, in the backpack sitting beside me is an iPad with a brand new case that features a “Magic Keyboard” — so I can type on the iPad like a laptop. Super compact and facilitates the speed and ease with which I can write. Game changer! Im already seeing myself typing on the beach, a place I’d never bring my laptop. I love writing on the go. The iPad, laptop and phone all sync so I can work on my book across all devices. This is my first trip, a mini one, with the iPad. Let’s see how it goes!
The last time I flew to Denver I didn’t bring an iPad, a half written novel or this much confidence. Almost two years ago I sat in this airport, typing a letter like this one to my fans. In that letter I expressed how uncomfortable I was to fly after years of being grounded in Seattle and to travel away from my husband to whom I was codependent and anxiously attached. My online business was just taking off. I was nervous to be out in the world on my own again but I also felt familiar waking up inside me.
Who was yawning awake on that trip? It was the part of me who longed to explore the world and stretch my wings of independence. I’d love to board this plane and sit beside my past self. I’d love to tell her the stories about the whale sharks I nearly kissed on that sailboat trip in Indonesia, the first moment I breathed underwater in Thailand, how the food in Japan made my mouth water. I want to whisper secrets of the future into her ear. She’d be so happy to know that she had a new best friend from Australia and in a few months she’ll be going to a music festival in an exotic country she never imagined visiting.
I’d tell her that travel makes the words flow! I’d tell her she was about to write a book!
She’d want to learn more about my many lives and stories. I’ll tell her that all these stories I’m writing are constructing a colorful magical world, one word at a time; a realm for all my parts to inhabit, play in, process my life experiences and interact with each other in a safe space. In this fantasy world I can work through my most private and complex emotions. It feels like real action and i experiences results, changes in myself as I travel between the fantasy and reality. My life is an outward expression of my inner world and visa versa.
She would be fascinated. We’d talk the whole way to Denver. She’d want to hear about how I can pluck stories from this created world to share with you, a little contribution to humanity, a creative way to connect with people like you in this plane of consciousness who are intrigued enough to listen to the realities of my fantasy realm.
That girl and I have so much in common. It’s easy to feel her with me when I’m stretching. We both have always loved stretching. As I stretch on this grungy airport carpet covered in crumbs, curled receipts, plastic straws and stale M&M’s, I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the dark window. I am often surprised these days to see myself. My parts have taken on such distinct appearances and none of them look like the face I see in this airport window. My face is the mask behind which all of my parts live. Who is she, the one in the mirror? She is many women.
Love & Rainbows,
Cha Wilde