Wednesday, November 11, 2015

Playing Catch Up

I think it's safe to say that I've spent the majority of my teen years and now my early adulthood feeling as if I'm playing catch up with everyone around me. All my friends and peers got their licenses before me. They all got summer jobs before me. They got boyfriends and broken hearts before me. And now they're all adjusting to adulthood better than I ever could. And that's how the past ten years of my life have gone. Running to catch up with my friends and my peers, and never quite making it in time. Because as soon as I get to a place where I finally feel as if I've made some progress, as if I've gotten closer to where everyone else seems to be, I look up and they're already ten steps ahead of me once again.

I remember being asked to write a poem my Junior year of high school for my English class, and I remember to this day that my poem was all about trying to keep up with everyone around me. Trying to figure out how to make the same transition from being a kid to a semi-adult that everyone else seemed to be making. And I also remember that the poem made my mother cry, but that isn't really saying much. My mother cries at everything I write. Still, that one poem has stuck with me for a long time, and in a lot of ways I feel as if I'm still living it today. Still barely keeping up. Still feeling out of place or left behind. Still wishing that I could somehow develop the same gene that everyone around me seems to have that allows them to grow up and move out and start acting like an adult. Not that I'm particularly looking forward to acting like an adult, but it feels like it should be time. I'm almost 23 years old and yet most days, at least on the inside, I still feel like that same terrified, starry-eyed 17 year old girl who only wants to spend time with her family, read books about beautiful boys and brave girls, and laugh with her friends. Who wants to believe in magic and soulmates and dreams that actually come true. Who just wishes that someone would truly see her and tell her that she matters and that everything really is going to be okay.

The girl I was back then had so many dreams and so many things she wanted to do with her life. She had so many expectations and somewhere inside she really believed that they would be met. At least she hoped so. And sitting here now writing this to you I can't help but feel that I've let her down in too many ways. The same kinds of ways that she let down the ten year old girl that came before her. And I don't want to do that anymore. I don't want to be 30 years old and still thinking that I've let my almost 23 year old self down. Because letting your friends down and letting your family down is one thing, but when you let yourself down, it just makes you feel so hopeless. And I've felt hopeless and helpless for so many years and I hate it. Because I'm not either of those things. I am a perfectly capable human being, and I am the only real thing standing between what I have and what I really want. I am the only thing standing between who I am and who that 17 year old girl hoped I would be. And I don't want to let her down anymore. I don't want to always be playing this constant game of catch up. It's exhausting and it's unnecessary and it's impossible. Everyone grows and changes at their own pace. Everyone does things at their own pace. And everyone gets to where they're supposed to be when they're supposed to get there. At least that's what I'd like to believe. So even though I may not be where my peers, or even my friends are in life, I'm still here, and I'm going at my own pace, and I'm learning that that's okay.

There is a tree that lives outside my window that is only just now changing from green to red. Every autumn it is always the last tree to change color and lose its leaves, and every morning I wake up to see how much it has changed overnight. And though the change is slow and sometimes hard to notice, the tree is changing, one leaf at a time. And much like the tree outside my window, I am slow to change and I'm bad at letting go. But everyday this tree shows me that even though change may come slower for me than for those around me, that doesn't mean that there is anything wrong with me. And it doesn't mean that I'm doing something wrong. And it doesn't mean that I need to play catch up. And even though sometimes change can seem scary, I'm learning that it can also be good and necessary. And sometimes, if you're lucky, it can even be beautiful.


Love & Chaos,
Sam

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