23.
Time is such a trippy thing.
I’ve re-visited past writings and thoughts, like this Medium post on turning 23. I hear so much hope. I can feel a sense of openness to the possibilities, a re-alignment with oneself that I think I felt at some points this past year.
It’s just funny. I laugh. Since moving out of the Valley and with family in Burbank, the most consistent thing I’ve dedicated my time to is my physical health. I’ve developed a certain love of going to the gym. It’s time where I can be by myself and work on my body, invest in my body like I’ve never done before. There are times I get bored and I wonder if I should go to the gym because why not? I feel the endorphins and I can feel a small accomplishment.
Last year, I hated myself. I hated my body. I hated the way I looked. I was angry with the world (and maybe I still am). I was lost in the confusion of graduating into a pandemic. I felt incredibly lonely and alone, some times simultaneously. I became narcissistic and ended up hurting someone who loved me. I hurt someone who loved me in a way no one has ever loved me before.
And to that end, I’m here at 24, trying to understand who I was and become who I want to be. Lately, I’ve seen a lot of signs from the Universe surrounding this idea of “why.” Not the beginning of an interrogation, rather, the reason for one’s existence. What am I destined to be? What did I come to this world to do?
It’s a big question. What is your why?
Well, I think about my life up until this point. I think about the way I’ve created community across the spaces I’ve joined. I’ve seen so much love come out of the stories I share about myself when I choose to be vulnerable and how those around me have called me “inspiring” and “safe.” I know my powers. I can see the way I remind people of who they are. I can feel the love when I bring people together for a certain goal. It’s in me. I know it is.
I laugh to myself when I read this last entry the days after I turned 23. There is a wistful hope that I don’t think I have anymore. There is a hope that I may find my way back to who I know myself to be.
But the more I think about it, the more I sit with it…maybe the journey to my “why” isn’t a journey back to who I once was. Maybe it’s a trip to exploring who I’m meant to be.
I do such a good job at living in nostalgia. It’s always been my go-to. I feel like I’ve never found refuge or a sense of safety in the future or what’s in front of me. With childhood trauma under my belt, I walk in this world constantly looking back because I’ve experienced it and know what to expect. The only thing I have to anticipate is feeling something I’ve felt before.
That’s how I’ve thought and framed my life for so long. It feels safe to know what to expect, to not be surprised. But for so long, I’ve never looked forward at possibilities. Maybe it’s because the only thing that keeps me from looking forward is the fear that stands between where I am and who I know myself to be. That fear is like Medusa — one look at it and I tell myself I’m everything I’m not. Looking at that fear is like looking at all the people that have doubted me, including myself.
Well maybe 24 is about looking forward. Maybe it’s choosing to move through that fear because on the other side of it is the life I’ve wanted for myself. On the other side are my dreams, are my joys…happiness is there.
It’s not going to be easy. But, these 24 years have been spent living in the past, a hope to what felt seemingly safe. Yet, what was safe was me just surviving, getting by. What does thriving look like? What does living look like?
I claim it. This time next year, I will have tasted a bit of what thriving is. And I’m ready. It’s time.
