Tuesday, August 20, 2013

too many feels (so when do i become an "adult")




When I was little I thought by 24 I would have my shit together. I thought I'd accomplish everything I pretty much wanted to accomplish.

And then 24 came and went and here I am, on some kind of path going some kind of direction. Years and years of school and college and jobs and friendships and decisions have led me on some kind of bumbling path that I like to call "life." And here I am, on my couch, in my apartment, in Los Angeles, quirking one eyebrow and wondering when this whole "adult" thing happens. 

Because inside I still feel like that fourteen year old girl that cringed at boys and tucked books into my bag and wanted to just close my eyes so tight and open them and have a Hogwarts letter sitting in my lap. I might have a lot more debt now (thank you NYU) and I might not be able to fit into those 9th grade jeans (thank you In & Out) but here I am - me - wondering what the hell I am doing with my life.*

*-I think we all think this? I hope?

I sit on my couch and I lean my head back and I can see myself from the outside and I wonder if I like what I see. I look at the worry lines that crease the corners of my eyes and I wonder, "Were those worries worth it?"

I see the doubt in my eyes and I ask, "Is that doubt worth it?"

I see the hesitation in my fingers, in my limbs and I think..."Where is your bravery?"

I wait for the answering voice and I'm met with silence. I think about where 24 years of energy goes into. I think about what occupies this 24 year old brain of mine throughout the day. 

I think about when will I wake up and have that feeling of, "Yup, this is what it's supposed to feel like to have it together." 

Newsflash to self! We never feel like that!

But...but....don't married people feel like they did something right? 

Maybe, but I'm sure it's very stressful trying to cook and live with someone else.

But....don't beautiful people have one less thing to worry about?

Maybe, but I'm sure beauty doesn't equate health and happiness.

But...aren't rich people happy?

I mean OBVIOUSLY not. Have you WATCHED an episode of Keeping Up With the Kardashians? WOOF double WOOF WOOF.

I guess I just would have thought that 24 meant crying less at television shows and random radio songs. I thought 24 would mean I would feel more "in my skin" or whatever bull crap Seventeen magazine used to tell me. I thought that 24 would mean I would feel more like an "adult." 

But what does 24 actually feel like? 

Crazy and the same and nothing all at once. 

And it also feels like breath and sunrises and just..."life" or whatever. I don't think I'm supposed to figure out what it means. I think I like what it just is. It's loving my job, and visiting family, and being unattached and rooted here all at the same time. It's long drives home along a California highway. It's hosting a comedy show and seeing friends leave. It's seeing friends get married and it's seeing friends breakup.

It's being alone and being surrounded by love all at once. It's figuring it out as I go along. It's nice. Sometimes it sucks. 

It's real.

And I think I like that a lot.

* * * 






Friday, August 9, 2013

trying to be okay with fear (is hard)



I dream of being adventurous to the point where I realize how scared of everything I really am. 

There is probably a healthy balance between "dreamer" and "adventurer" and I'm pretty sure I am on the more unhealthy side of dreaming. Where are we supposed to draw the line? For instance - there are many a night when I'm out with friends or sitting at work and I am just fantasizing about my bed and Netflix or a book or any other fake world because I honestly don't feel like living this one. 

And then I'll scroll through instagram or Facebook and actually become depressed. And I'll look at light and pretty pictures of other people and become so jealous of their lives. I'm completely overlooking the blessings I have in my own life because I'm too busy wishing I had someone else's. SICK GROSS RIGHT?!??!?!?!?!?!?!? 

Last night we were talking about where we store our treasure and what that means for our lives. It made me immediately think of Harry Potter (of course) and in the Sorcerer's Stone and the Mirror of Erised. I thought about what I might see if I looked in the mirror and I'm a little afraid of the truth. Because the mirror exposes your heart's deepest desire.

Of course, I'd love to be able to say I'd see myself holding hands with Jesus and feeding little orphans and giving away all of my posessions. But what I would really see is probably me, twenty pounds lighter, with a big rock on my left finger and really cool clothes and lots of friends. 

It's freaky and scary when you realize where you store your treasure. And in a city like Los Angeles where everyone is just craving, wanting, itching for the next big best thing - everyone is desperate to stay young and look good and be friends with the "right people" - well you can pretty much guess where everyone's treasure is stored. And I can easily see where my treasure is lying. And it sure ain't in Jesus.

Not always.

But I want to change that. 

I feel like my Christian walk is this line - this line that I constantly stray from. And then I come back. Then I stray again and get hurt and down and far and then crawl slowly back, one eye cracked open, cringing at God as if to say, "Do you still want me?" 

And every time (duh)  He says the simplest of answers.

"Yes."

Yes.

"But why?" I ask and I put my hands over my eyes, peeking through the slits, face down, ashamed and embarrassed. 

"Because I love you," He always says. And sometimes it doesn't feel "nice" but it always feels real. There's a difference.

I crave adventure and relationships and stories and memories. I also crave hiding and pulling blankets over my eyes and being someone else. I idealize life and expect too much and get angry too fast.

And all I really want to see when I look in that mirror is God saying, "Well done."

Life and thoughts and shit, am I right?!?!?

Goodness.