self perspective

When I last posted, I ended with these thoughts: “Until then, I hope these newfound footholds remain strong. If not, I've learned that I have the strength to make more on my own.” I spoke of the desire to hold onto my idea of steady ground, of building my own foundation when others fall apart. I’ve recently made more on my own.

One week ago, I started my twenty-second year of life. I know many adults who don’t share their age or their birthday or happiness for either. Personally, I love the concept of birthdays. We all deal with so much in our daily lives. Add all of the great and terrible events of 365 consecutive days, and I believe celebrations are necessary. My own celebration is that of surviving even on the days I don’t desire to continue.

Alas my birthday is not a day I associate much happiness with, and the track record continued this year. I spent it unpacking the piles of boxes and totes in my room, folding the piles of laundry I’d tossed amongst the mess for a week, washing dishes I’d let pile in the sink, cleaning my bathroom for the first time since moving in a week prior. I also spent time at Target and Menard’s, and eating fast food & pancakes at IHOP because I had coupons for free food, and my budget needs all the free items I can find. All of that took place in the span of 6 hours. The rest of the day I spent sulking in bed, thinking of all the other must-do-this tasks listed in a notebook I lost between old letters and new bills. 

That night I read a stranger’s latest blog post about high-functioning anxiety. I’ve lost the link since, but a paraphrased statement of one paragraph is that I spend most of my time worrying about how much I haven’t yet done. To you, that sounds counterproductive (because it is). To me, it’s the type of logic that my faulted brain believes. 

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Right now, I’m sitting in my friend’s bed, typing on my phone while she studies for yet another statistics exam. We lived together, across the hall (two doors down), just months ago—that feels like ancient history. I studied for tests just months ago. I planned for a future in academia just months ago. I saved a final paper from a professor with the note, “you could teach this,” just months ago.

Each time I’ve returned since, I’ve felt a sense of longing, a feeling of, “I should still be here.” When I arrived yesterday, I felt more like I do when I return to other places of which I feel fond. I felt like the good memories are great & what brings me back, but I also felt something new. I finally felt like it’s time to let go.

Perhaps that feeling exists solely due to the large amount of letting go I’ve recently done—with finances, my latest move, old friends, and new hobbies that stopped as soon as they started. Most of those happenings somehow have a connection to Coe, this place I usually refer to as home. That’s how everything feels lately: interconnected & returning to one core focus.

For a while, that focus felt like something “other,” something I couldn’t control, something that didn’t fully belong in my possession.

Last night, while stumbling through the downtown streets of the first city (note: I grew up in a town of 250; Cedar Rapids is a city from that perspective) I loved, something made me realize that the focus is me. I am the center of everything that happens in my life—not in a conceited way, but in a way that forces me to recognize that I should stop letting life happen to me and start letting myself rebuild my life, at any moment I feel that it’s no longer working.

That moment, albeit longer than the definition would permit, is this entire long weekend...from my Thursday night out until my Monday morning drive back to the city I want to love as a home (parts of it, I do). During this time, I’ve realized that some people aren’t worth keeping around if they can’t support me when I’m up *and* when I’m down. I’ve realized that forgiveness is a powerful weapon against the negativity in the world, and that kindness is a constant reminder that we can all do much better. I’ve realized that we don’t lose people—we gain new friends as we grow into who we’ve yet to be.

Perhaps most importantly, I’ve realized that, yes, I can handle anything that life throws at me, but when someone else notices that I need a break, I should take it; that when someone else says that I’ve hurt them, I should apologize; that when someone else has a problem, it is not my job to fix it; and that when someone isn’t ready for whatever comes next, they don’t have to take it (myself included). All that is yet to be done will still happen if and when it should.