Over the past few months, I lost sight of what truly fills me up. In a commitment to return to myself, this new series is titled “Remember Me.” Life gets busy, stressful, and confusing, and I hope we can always remember to return to ourselves.
I’ve always wondered what it would feel like to be obvious.
As a little girl, I was notorious for my endless list of questions. I demanded to understand why things were the way that they were, especially when I couldn’t understand them, or when the answers felt out of reach.
As I’ve gotten older, that nagging desire to unveil the obvious has slowly shifted inward.
While I still wonder why the world is the way that it is, the answers to most of my big questions now belong to me. And, god, is that scary.
I am 23, and for the first time in my life, I have absolutely no idea what my next step is supposed to be. Scrolling through social media and going out to bars, it feels as though I am the only one torn between hundreds of versions of myself. Everyone else has gotten it. They want that promotion, grad school, to move to that city, or be married by 27, obviously.
Wouldn’t it be nice to be obvious? I think to myself. What would it feel like to post on LinkedIn and actually mean what I say when I talk about my career goals, or to have a solid answer when relatives ask if I see myself in California for good?
Sure, I think I’m okay at my job. I have a nice amount of friends. I am fairly responsible, and I guess you could argue that I am where I am supposed to be at this point of life. And for me, that reality is far from comforting. It’s confusing.
My life appears to be full, and yet I have never felt so disconnected from myself.
This past weekend, these overwhelming anxieties came to a head. After a busy summer spent with so many people that I love, space finally opened up for my feelings to creep in again. I felt a familiar emptiness that I have tried so hard to steer clear of.
While those around me say that these feelings are normal, I can’t help but long for an obvious career path or an obvious role in my loved one’s lives – one that isn’t too little or too much.
Deep down, I know that I’ve spent years teetering between versions of myself, afraid to commit to one and leave the others behind. But this inability to commit often leaves me depleted, unsure of what space I am worthy of filling at all.
Before I sat down to write this, my first inclination was to change something drastic in my life. I often consider making a big move, cutting 6 inches off of my hair, or booking a flight. But, I am choosing to write, because I want this time to be different.
Don’t get me wrong, this past year has by far been one of the best years of my life. New experiences, places, and people have overflowed my cup. I am eternally grateful. But to my own fault, I left little space for myself in it all.
This time, I will commit to sitting with this version of me and allow for its pain and confusion to guide me. If nothing else, I know that I owe it to that young girl with an endless list of questions. It's time that I listen to her.
Instead of stressing over the answers, I will change the questions. I will go out and explore the space that opens up in accepting the unknown. Instead of demanding answers to whether or not I am where I should be, I will ask, “Who do I want to become?", and I know my path will always follow.
Comments