After a few days of intense, unwelcome heat, it is finally raining.
After a week of exams, packing, work, and waiting, I moved out of school two days ago in a whirlwind of clothes, boxes, stuff, rolling carts, sweat, and love.
I would apologize for my absence but at the same time I know the reason I’ve been vacant has more to do with the fact that I have no highlight reel to present. Which is fine, of course. Often I think we [I] fall into this trap of posting posting posting, living the good out loud and repressing the bad [because who really wants to read depressing things?] It’s not all sunshine and roses in this space by any means. I feel like I’ve been better about that. Or maybe I haven’t. Lol. I don’t know, it’s been a while.
But all of the pain, the thoughts, the feelings are culminating into this spicy word soup in my head that has left me uneasy.
I watched, bittersweetly, as all of my other roommates moved out throughout the week and throughout the day…thankfully I was able to help them with their things, say goodbye, and wish them a good summer. What started as excitement for summer, for change, for new adventures faded quickly into a dull disappointment as it finally came to be my turn, leaving school way later than anticipated due to some parental tardiness, having to say goodbye to Josh outside of our late-night snack spot, and getting the update on everything and everyone on the car ride home.
Still I tried to be hopeful.
My first hours back in my hometown were actually pretty beautiful. I got to watch my little sister play baseball accompanied by a stunning sunset, and I felt my heart re-inflate for a moment with hope for the coming months, for opportunity, for freedom.
That faded that night, as I walked into my old room, feeling instantly out of place, like a stranger, like a dog too big for his kennel. My frustration at the fact that I barely had room to put things I had brought home combined with the cognitive dissonance of me, refreshed, renewed, still healing, still growing colliding with a space that emanated a completely different atmosphere than I’d cultivated while I was away– unnerved me. I could feel myself breaking down for the first time in a long time and I realized I had to do something.
Never have I experienced more unrest, more determination, more realizations than I have in the past two days. And I look, as the rain starts outside my window, through that very window at the trees I’ve seen upon my waking almost every day in my 21 years on this earth. And I see them green as ever against the grey sky and I can’t help but notice how I’m focusing on the screen between me and their vibrant being. I watched a TEDTalk today about how the worst moments of our life essentially make us who we are, and if we can look upon them and find joy within them, within the fact that they got us to where we are, then ultimately we can “forge meaning and build identity.”
And holy guacamole is that what I’m trying to do. In my reluctance to adjust, my unrest, my turmoil I have realized what is important to me, and have tried to make reasonable goals for the summer, small wins to help me fight– fight against the temptation to recede into old habits, to fight against the negativity of this space, to fight for my continued growth and curiosity in the face of plans falling through and structure escaping me in the coming months.
I want to fight to be those trees in my bedside vista, their vibrant green lighting up the air they occupy, offering themselves as a stark contrast to the impending doom and gloom grey around them. And so I think of this bible bit, which was actually used in the TEDTalk but brought back a lot to my memory when I heard it:
“Therefore I am well content with weaknesses, with insults, with distresses, with persecutions, with difficulties, for Christ’s sake; for when I am weak, then I am strong.”
~ 2 Corinthians 12:10