I often think, I am going through something right now. Then I stop and realize that I am always going through something. It’s just that it feels unique and different every time, and I hold onto this false idea that there is some kind of normal life where I don’t feel like I’m riding the waves of the ocean–where it isn’t one thing after another. But that isn’t life, I know. And thank God, because how boring would that be?
What I’m saying, internet, is that I’m going through something right now. And it’s hard to explain, because when I express my optimism, it seems to too easily miss the sadness and when I express the sadness, I miss the optimism. I experience happiness and sadness together in a way that seems paradoxical. But, if studying theology has taught me anything, it’s that truth is often found close to where things seem uncomfortable and contradictory.
I’m a deep feeling and sensitive person and that hasn’t always made life easy for me. When I was younger, I felt like those ocean waves might actually sweep me away. So I built walls to keep myself together and to keep the tumultuous waters from reaching me. I do have some regret. I know that by trying to protect myself, I missed out on what could have been amazing experiences. But I am largely at peace about it, because I think I needed that time. And having taken it, I became this person I’m really happy to be. Just the other night, I thought, I wish I’d realized years ago how awesome I am.
This is a new level of self-assuredness. This kind of knowing I will be okay, knowing I won’t be swept away. More than that: genuinely liking the person I am in a way that I haven’t before. Maybe this belongs in a seperate post, but I think it has everything to do with why the risk of being swept away doesn’t scare me like it used to. The fear was always of losing myself and the things I’d constructed myself out of, but I realize now that those things can’t be taken away from me.
The sadness is real and it is not made right by optimism or anything else, but I experience it more like waves now and not a rock pinning me to the ground. I feel on a level even deeper than before and it is scary, but music sounds better here and words are more moving. Still, it is one thing after the next, and having arrived here, I find myself uncertain about what to do next. I’m impatient.
I want to jump off cliffs, but I find my life is more full of rolling hills instead. I did jump off of one cliff and was reminded that the universe doesn’t always teach you the lesson you want to learn, because nothing happened. And nothing is the worst. I would have preferred crash and burn.
So this has been my March. Seeing David Gray in concert. Wine and Zac Efron. A trip North to visit Bri and meet Katherine. Time spent in my favorite spot on the seventh floor of the stacks, staring out the window, except it’s usually dark and I can’t see anything. Disappearing from my desk to walk around campus and listen to music. And managing my own impatience by seeking out things that unsettle me.