twenty-four

wow, I've abandoned this blog for a whole year -- only remembering about when I saw the auto-renewal charge on my bank statement. What a year it's been.

Every week I kept thinking I should return to writing. I have some things weighing heavy in my heart that I need to get out. I have so many thoughts in my head. My stress is actually starting to manifest.

But twenty-four, my god. This year I fell down and picked myself up. And then I fell down again, and again, and again, and I picked myself up each time and found another lesson to learn from. Look at me, actually learning.

Except these are the lessons that aren't easy to learn; they're the nasty scabs on scraped knees that bleed when you bend. They're the kind of wounds that get worse before they get better. But I found myself white-knuckling, crying at inappropriate times, and finally saying fuck it and following my heart. And it led me to being broke in my parents house and relying on them to buy my groceries. And watching a lot of Netflix. And finally breaking a self-deprecating cycle.

Last I wrote I had broke up with my boyfriend of four years. And I have handled that amazingly well, if I do say so myself. I'm almost surprised as to how well I handled it. After a few months of repressing any emotions, then letting myself feel horrible for being a heartbreaker, I forgave myself. Sometimes things just don't work out and it's not my fault or anyone else's. We just weren't meant for each other, and if it's not head-over-heels exciting, breathtaking, beautiful love -- I don't want it. And when I happened to accidentally stumble into love again, I didn't stop myself. I didn't carefully calculate. I let it happen. And it is sweet and blissful like I hoped.

I learned about myself through the opinions of others. Which is probably the antithesis of how you should measure your self-worth, but if you are a major self-deprecator such as myself, then maybe it's nice to learn how you rub other people. And I found out, shockingly, that I'm not so bad. I'm not annoying and clingy, I'm actually kind of funny, and my friends actually like me and genuinely care about me. My job allowed me to mingle with people who I probably would have otherwise never met and they like me -- they really like me. Wow! Who would have thought, I am actually a people person.

And the most important thing I learned this year was that I actually matter and have valuable, marketable skills. I guess this year I was pretty down on myself for not landing a job in my field, for being unemployed for a few months, coupled with the politic atmosphere, I sort of convinced myself that I was a special millennial snowflake who will rely on my parents forever and mentally cursed myself for not going into finance... then I remembered that what this country needs more than ever are people like me, with specialties in fields like health, psychology and research. As soon as I stopped fighting it, opportunities opened up.

Even more so, I have a sense of peaceful contentment. I haven't had a panic attack in weeks, I stopped drinking so much damn coffee just to stay awake, and the future doesn't seem so scary. The pieces will fall will they will. I will be ok.

the universe knows best

trust the process. have faith in knowing that everything you have been through, every broken heart, teardrop and crooked smile has undoubtedly brought you exactly where you need to be. here. if you're not happy yet, it's a lesson to learn from. don't give up. make the change you need. if you are happy, don't get complacent. continue to grow, learn, explore, cultivate.

in two weeks I completely turned my life around. I moved out of the luxury shoebox apartment that was suffocating me, and I let go of any pressure I put on myself about who or where I should be. I let my heart do the thinking; no longer letting my over calculating brain command every move. I think I've cracked the secret to happiness.

I'm not saying that i fixed myself, or that my shit is in any way together -- if anything, I'm left with an even bigger mess: a relationship I ended after four years, hurt feelings, betrayal. But I feel like I can inhale without choking. I haven't cried myself to sleep. I smile and my eyes aren't sad anymore.

twenty-two

as a january baby, the holidays always signify just a little bit more to me. while the rest of the world celebrates the birth of baby jesus and toasts to the new year, I serve myself a slice of strawberry cake and knock back my own champagne as consolation for surviving another 365 days.

kidding. well, sort of. but it's not just the new year, it's my new year; a chance to be older and wiser and improve upon past mistakes and turn into the kickass superwoman I intuitively feel I can be, if I ever take the time to actually get my shit together. which I try, every year, but the sheer thought of sifting through the black holes and storm clouds in my psyche is exhausting. It's easier said than done. so I've been blissfully avoiding it... for about five years.

but this new year feels extra special. I have that heart-swelling-in-my-throat feeling as I get ready to seal shut the box of twenty-two and shove it in the back of my closet. 

I credit myself being a capricorn, a myers-briggs unicorn, or just a girl who feels too many feelings. I'm an overthinking underachiever. I've been told that I'm terrified of my own greatness, but the longer I live in fear, the less great I believe myself to be.

this year the fear certainly won. too many days of this year were spent talking myself down from the edge of a panic attack. fearing failure. fearing to admit failure. being too afraid to ask for help.

twenty-two was just old enough for me to pretend I knew what I was doing, but in a way completely different than when I acted out as a smartass teenager. I actually went out on a limb, and I fell, gracelessly, into a pit of despair. I have a job and make enough money to actually support myself, which is weird. I of course continue to spend large chunks of my paychecks on extravagant non-necessities, but I was able to carve out a little space in a luxury shoebox apartment with my boyfriend. We paid bills, ate dinner together on our tiny but adorable coffee table and drank sparkling water out of wine glasses. 

I effortlessly made friends at work. I loved my job. new people wanted to get to know me. people thought I was smart and funny, because damnit, I am smart and funny. but slowly, the fear crept in.

playing house slowly became less fun when the growing piles of dishes in the sink corresponded with the number of nights I cried myself to sleep. in the places that I used to push myself to excel, I cowardly admitted defeat. I gave up.

twenty-two was the year when things came full circle. it's the yin and yang of life, or so I would have told myself that when I used to read books on Taoism and eastern ideologies, around the time I acquired the large lotus-flower-hindu-prayer tramp stamp spanning the lower quarter of my back. you can only run from things so long before they catch up to you.

twenty-two is the year when my meticulously calculated life became sloppy and spontaneous. I literally felt like everything I knew was being ripped away from me. the longer the change went on, the harder it was for me to grasp onto what I knew. I became complacent. Lazy. I tried frantically to regain my sense of self by emulating others. I would scroll, for hours, through the instagrams of fitness models and berate myself for letting myself go. I was weak and impulsive, and my strong backbone and cultivated discipline became as flimsy as a feather.

who am I? I've become what I was afraid of. worse, I've become who I used to be. the girl I ran away from, who I told myself I would never be again. It stings the same way. the most painful part is that I feel OK; 

I'm optimistic for the new year. twenty-two was a lesson that I'm ready to learn from.