Bringing Past to Present
Once upon a time, I sat at my computer during my prime twenties with my life literally an open book to read. I shared my confidence, my thoughts, my flaws, and my troubles. I did all this with very little worry about what trouble it might cause or what thoughts might be had about my words. I just wanted to share the rollercoaster of life and that, as alone as it might feel, there are people out in the world who also want to hear about your problems, and most importantly, your solutions.
So I sat at my computer, with my life on stage, as I blogged about anything and everything. Now that I look back, maybe it wasn’t about helping other people as much as just helping myself. Speaking my words (or writing them) just makes me feel good. Thousands of words and daunting thoughts slowly leaving my body and all of a sudden I feel light. Almost functional again.
Then one day I stopped and I’ve been feeling heavy ever since.
I stopped writing because I openly talked about an old employer who I felt may or may not have had a hostile environment. I will also state that almost a decade later, I still believe this to be true. I also cab painfully admit, I was probably a child regarding the situation and did some pretty stupid things. No matter what the wrong and right situation was, I was stifled. I took down the post, deactivated my blog and never looked back. Well, that’s not all true. I constantly look back.
When the words bubbled up and I began pacing with anxiety about a situation, I looked back to openly sharing my thoughts. I just wanted to let out the frustrations like screaming out loud at the top of a mountain and just how good that could feel. I’ve tried to just write it out privately in books and on the cloud but it just doesn’t work.
So I would do a quick search to look for my blog to remind me what it was like to feel stuck and then all of a sudden unstuck with just a little bit of time passing. There would always be a quick moment of relief and then I would close the tab also reminding myself of the harm it had caused.
Until tonight...
Tonight I went through every email account I could have had from the past 10 years just to see which one would yield an account through Tumblr. Then resetting the password to access that email so I could also reset my Tumble password. Until I finally got here. Writing to you.
Tonight, I was pacing with that anxiety and the bubbles were drowning me. I was so sure that nothing would help me breathe again but just writing this I am back to sitting in my troubles just chest-deep.
I am also currently staring at a blog named TwentySOS and only half of it is true seems to be true. Life is still one big SOS but it’s not a twenty-something thing. It’s an everybody thing.
I am 233 days to the big three-oh. At this very moment, I am also realizing that it will be my “Golden” birthday. 30 on the 30th which might change my mind about what I am about to say.
I’m going to be 30 and even after a decade of searching, I still can’t seem to figure out my place or purpose in this world. But now, I am less motivated and not even sure if there is a prize to have my eyes on. I am a closed book. Nobody knows that I feel lost, I keep most people at arm's length, and really do seem to have an invisible bubble that really isn’t invisible because everyone can clearly read the sign on it that says “Stay over there”. Most things feel impossible, too scary, too risky, too something and it’s honestly like I look in the mirror and I am not even sure who is staring back at me anymore. The actual life that I have used to live has been sucked out of me.
At least I still believe in change and that we are all creators of it. So I’m going to create change, open the book, and let the world know that I am doing my best to leave my mark on it. Because it very well might be that I leave this world without ever finding a place to be, but I refuse to go quietly.