I posted this earlier this week in a more personal spot on social media, and was encouraged to share it, here. Inasmuch as this is actually something that really does resonate with me - lately, in particular - I figure I might as well, since that's why we're here. So, here:
*Quick moment of truth*
I know I'm not the only one who has ever looked around their life and thought, "What the--?! This was not the way I saw this going when people asked me about what I wanted to be when I grew up...!" At this point, I just want to grow up, because this isn't exactly what I want to be, so maybe I'm not grown up, yet? I had infinite potential, some said. I had it in me to be brilliantly successful in whatever field I chose, and all I had to do was follow my heart, some said! Maybe not everyone got to have that, but we all had (HAVE) infinite potential, and some have followed that to more success, confidence and contentment than others.
Maybe that's what growing up is supposed to be? I personally know people who make me wonder how on earth they ended up being what they are, because I love and admire what they are, even with their struggles, and the places that built who they are and why they are what they are, for better for worse. You, for instance. I wouldn't want the balance, but I kinda don't want the balance of mine, either.
Take away 4608 and I'd be the same person, just with less feeling like I musta messed up to have this dichotomy of memes and quirky posts people say they love vs the absolute train wreck that my life seems to have become, in a lot of ways. Who the blast could have predicted the things that kinda got in the way and made me jump from the path people told me I had in front of me, to *this*?
And yet, one thing that I've been told about my situation is that the very things that allowed me to be who and what I am, and do the incredible things I *have* done, have been those which allowed me to have the time and perspective and empathy to do them. The people whose lives have crossed mine for the better, and the hours upon hours we've shared. The time and dedication I've had to make The Phoenix and The Butterfly what it is have come from the fact that I've been unable to do the things that would have made me more "normal" or more "successful" or more "happy" according to culture and human nature. The absolute joys and the absolute devastations which have given me depth and meaning and purpose. The ability to communicate and the utter humaness which have combined to make what some have called a "beautiful mess".
There are moments I absolutely hate all of that, but mostly those are the pity party moments when I just wish I could have some kind of "happy medium" which allows for the depth with a little less of the mess. lol! At least with a little more self-absorbed oxygen and sleep, and maybe a bit more of the ability to do some of the things I would *love* to do, but am unable due to present circumstances! I'm too young to be like this, they say! I make the elderly grateful all they are is old, they say!
I'm grateful that I got to have a life, as humans generally consider it. I got to do things that were extraordinary, and things that are mediocre, and things that were rather sub-par with the goals of most humans. But that is life, I guess. Experiencing stuff as the opportunities present themselves and just letting the experiences build us as they will. I dunno. Not like I've ever claimed to have the answers, hmm? Meh. I guess this is just a (rather long, ahem) moment to share that I'm just as messed up as anyone else. And I guess if you've read this far, it must resonate with something in you, too.
All in this together, and better days ahead, and all that.
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