Just another reason to make a wish

It’s the eve of my 26th birthday and it is by far the least excited I have been yet to turn another year older. This year is a big one for me. 25 seemed like a milestone, and passing the quarter-century point is something of a feat in adulting. This is the birthday the government gives us newly turned 26-year-olds the stiff-armed pushed into adulthood. This is the year they say “hopefully you have your shit together, we know your joints are starting to hurt more than they did in your early 20’s, your hangovers only seem to be getting worse, and gray is now part of the color spectrum on your head, but even so, you can’t mooch off your parents forever, get your own fucking health insurance.”

There are only a few circumstances that newly turned 26-year-olds find themselves in. They will breathe a sigh of relief, wake up, and roll out of bed to the job that is providing them with a health plan. Or, they will reach a little further into their pockets to pay for their own insurance. Or, they will risk it and go without. Those scenarios have been sitting on my shoulder this whole past year whispering their sweet anxieties into my ears.

The last week has felt heavy. The last month felt heavy. Hell, 25 has been a heavy year for me.

Minutes before it turned 12 am, marking my birthday—yes I paid attention— I’m trying to remember some of my recent past birthdays. Some I could remember easily, some were a bit foggy as to how I spent my day. I thought that was odd, not remembering. But, I do know that each one of them I had some type of plan that included celebrations, usually which involved drinking adult beverages and inviting friends to spend the day with me. This year is by far the tamest, and I am so ok with that.

So, it’s 12:07 am, newly 26,  and I’m flossing my teeth. Just 10 minutes earlier I was looking into the dance moves in Fortnite with my little brother.

Life as of recently has been felt nothing short of a rollercoaster ride. Specifically, the kind that takes you up and down and turns you upside down to the point where if the seatbelts malfunctioned you’d definitely find yourself catapulted out of your seat. Even so, grateful is what I feel, and there has been a growth within me that I am proud of.

As daunting as 26 has been, I do feel a lightness that is unexpected and welcoming. 25 was challenging and this next year maybe even more so, but it provides some changes that I have been desperately grasping for. I’m not sure how long this lightness will last for, I’m only one hour into being 26, but I’m going to fly with it as long as the magic carpet will let me.

I don’t want to say that I’m ditching all that has been, but, really, yeah, I kinda am.

 

New sight

It hit me like a slingshot to the neck. It has been something sitting in the back of my mind along with the other maybes. Occasionalally I’ll pluck one of those ideas up like a claw machine. But, often like a claw machine does, the idea is dropped as soon as it is picked up.

The aim of this slingshot was so particular that I couldn’t help but look at it with intrigue. As I delved more into the idea, I found my interest rising as if I was on a hike and getting closer to the summit. I found this idea offered a purpose worthy of being more than just a thought.

When this happens, intuition had found its way up through your guts. You have a decision to make. You allow your guts to lead you to a place you don’t know yet, or you let the feeling subside, just as you do when overcoming a hangover. As you ignore this new vision, the idea will loom with you, making you uncomfortable and even sick. But, it will pass, and the intuition that once held you lets go. But take a drink again. Intuition has a possibility of rising up and being there. You just have to drink the right juice, play that claw machine enough, and turn your head when something hits you in the neck.

Does it have to make sense?

Three months. It has taken me three months to feel like the bed I’m sleeping in, is in fact, mine. The realism of being away from my everything–my family, friends, and familiarity is sinking in like falling in quicksand. My foot got stuck in the mud–well, more purposefully than stuck–and sooner than I thought I was knee deep. Standing there, looking at my surroundings, I can see how I could call this new place my home. But, before I get myself to feel absolutely good about it, my head is under the dirt. Just in the moments before, I found myself questioning things–ok, everything. I am in the ground sucking for the air I once knew.

On the less dramatic side, you could say that moving to a different state hits ya surprisingly. Surely, I thought I would be a wreck being away from everything.  But, moving wasn’t the hard part. Getting a job wasn’t the hard part. Being on unfamiliar ground wasn’t the hard part. The hard part was finding out three months in, that I may not be in as good emotional shape as I thought. Sure, I’m a strong gal. And, life is great. I am blessed and I am grateful. But life is different. Life is tough, and sometimes life hurts. Being all on my own? Body and mind… It’s something. Something. Something. It’s something I know I wanted, and something I know I needed. Need.

Learning things about yourself, that’s where it happens. That’s where you realize that you may have done the right thing for yourself.

What really got me is realizing that every day doesn’t have to be a good day, and you don’t have to feel good all the time.

But uhhhh that’s all I’ve been trying to do!–making the most out of my days. Running away from the sadder feelings that are in me somewhere, and I run fast…

But all good must come to an end. I guess. Sometimes.

And you know what? When I did confront those flitterings of sad feelings, I felt sad. As I should. But what was surprising is that it also felt good.

Realizing how you really feel about things feels good. Embracing it, that feels even better. Running away from the inner workings of myself left me confused, about everything. And truth be told, I am still confused about the whole shit of it all. But it feels good to know that I am on the same page with myself. At least as much as I can be at the moment.

And isn’t that enough?

After I pull myself out of the quicksand called life, this new air feels…great.