Life is weird.
You do things you think you need to do and then once you do them, you wonder why you thought you had to do them. Similarly, you do things without really thinking about it because you think you want to do them and then once you stop doing them, you wonder what the fuck took you so long to pull your head out of your ass.
I believe with a deep, fiery passion that sometimes in life, you have to decide for yourself that enough is enough. You have to decide to call it good, cut and run, and get the fuck on with living your life and finding your bliss.
“One day you’re gonna wake up and you’re not gonna recognize yourself.”
That line is from the first season of Sex and the City. I know SATC isn’t exactly an intellectual show, but the writers for that show really know their shit. I don’t know about you, but more than once in my life I’ve gotten completely lost, woken up and not recognized myself. Sometimes it’s not necessarily a bad thing – change is inevitable, and on a lot of those mornings when I’ve had those realizations that I have, indeed, changed, it’s just a natural part of growing up.
But sometimes, those realizations come with burden. Sometimes, waking up and not knowing yourself when you look in the mirror is painful. I used to think I had it all together, had it all figured out. If I could go back to my high school graduation and tell myself one thing, it would be this: DON’T RUSH THINGS. Don’t push it. And for crying out loud, try living by yourself for a year. I mean BY YOURSELF, girl.
Because that’s something I never really did. I’ve never lived alone, aside from a month or two the summer between graduating from high school and going off to college, and even then I had a boyfriend who was over all the time and a mom just a few blocks away. Then again in college, for a couple months right before graduating – but, again, I had a boyfriend who spent a lot of time there.
And I’m starting to understand how important living on your own can really be. Maybe not for all people, because maybe some people are better at really knowing themselves than I apparently am, but for some people – people like me – living alone is a pretty key part of growing into yourself, into the person you’re supposed to be. And because I never did that, never lived alone – albeit by choice, willingly – I feel as though I’ve missed out on growing into ME. I feel like a different version of me, not the original.
And I’m wondering who I really am.