Warning: Here follows a somewhat self-indulgent introspective piece of writing. If this is not your cuppa tea, scroll down to the previous post for an awesome picture of a hedgehog.
In some ways, becoming a young adult is more confusing for me than being a teenager. At least when I was a teen I knew who I was and what I liked; I was a daydreaming drama queen who had highs and lows but always found it easy to grab the spotlight and loved to share it with her gorgeous boyfriend. Now, I’m somewhat mellowed, but not sure if that’s out of necessity or if it’s because I have been through some really low points over the past two years and don’t remember how to get back to the feeling of vitality I used to have. I don’t miss the drama; getting really upset or really angry because I was ‘good at it’… I may have been good at it, but deep down it made me miserable, because anger, as Yoda tells us, is never really a good thing.
I do miss feeling glamorous and attractive and almost entirely sure of myself, and again, I’m not sure if those things were the product of having a very nice flat tummy and acting in plays or if they were just my general state of being before I went to university, had my heart broken (and mended), found that university wasn’t what I was expecting, was repeatedly disappointed in various parts of my life, spent about a month in bed with various –itis’ (tonsil, bronch and flu, not an –itis, but a pain all the same), and then my family issues (‘family issues’, pah. Issues doesn’t cover it) at the end of last academic year and throughout this summer. I think I have somewhat been through the ringer, and perhaps this slight feeling of numbness and dissociation with the world I’m feeling at the moment is due to some sort of self-preservation strategy. This makes me sound like I’m going through life in some sort of soporific apathy at the moment, but I’m really not! I do feel happy and excited- to see my friends, to have phone calls from my mum and to speak to Jack, to cook pasta and to watch Mulan on DVD. But sometimes I still feel a little bit like I’m watching my life from the outside, and it’s not exactly Emmy-award winning. This dissociation may in fact also be the result of a night out last night that left me feeling tired and missing Jack… I am simply not the sort of person who belongs in Vodka Revs listening to what I would term A Terrible Racket. I was wearing Victorian style boots and a Guns N’Roses t-shirt.
I made it sound like I was some sort of shallow, vain, attention seeking teenager. That’s not true. Of course I was vain and attention seeking, I was a teenage girl… but I wsn’t shallow. I still cared deeply about friends and family, enjoyed things I love now like books, films, dogs and basmati rice with ham. So I know it was me, back then. It was certainly me who fell in love with Jack. That feeling and that relationship have changed and grown along with me (and him, too I suppose). In fact, all my relationships- with my family and my school friends- have changed as we’ve all ‘grown emotionally’. We’re on a ‘journey’ as celebrities would say.
So when I do feel myself drifting away from my self, these things are my anchors; Jack, mum, dad, Fiona, my close friends, my pets, my love of food, my love of books, my love of music, and my love of OrlandoBloom’s face. I think what I’m trying to express, is that I need to find the new me. I’ve just emerged from a difficult and strange couple of years (which have nonetheless contained a lot of happiness, please don’t think I am ungrateful for all the fantastic times I’ve had), and am kind of patting myself down to check that I’m still all here. I look back at myself before all this happened, and although I recognize that girl and know how I got from her to here, I’m not sure that in my search for an identity that I’m happy with, reverting to her styles and habits would really suit me now, as an almost-22-year-old.
Perhaps, the answer is just to chill the hell out. Enjoy what I enjoy, learn from things that go wrong and just rely on my anchors to get me through. Stop thinking too much, that’s probably the key.