A former teenage author turned twenty and her stabs at writing life and living to write.

Saturday, January 28, 2012

Those Schoolgirl Days

It's been one of those weeks; where all I want is someone to give me the tightest hug (you know, the ones that cut off your oxygen supply and make you feel wrapped in the warmest of blankets) and tell me what to do. It's just been one of those weeks.

Grief awakens at the oddest of hours. Nearly seven years ago, when my mom passed away, that same grief festered inside of me; it gnawed at my heart and destroyed everything I'd thought to be true. I was the kind of thirteen-year-old who still believed in magic; not the Santa Claus kind, but more the idea that all stories ended happily. I truly believed that every river in my path had a bridge, and that every bridge led somewhere more beautiful than the places I'd already been. I knew, in my heart and to the very depths of my soul, that she would recover. I had every confidence in the fact that I would ride Thunder Mountain with her at Disneyland again; that she would take my hand and race to ride it one more time before the park closed. These are the things that I knew, and these are the things that weren't true.

The grief was ever-present. It hovered over me like a heavy rain-cloud, drenching my cheeks in tears and striking my heart with stabbing pain. But I survived, and most days I couldn't tell you how. And it took years and years of trying desperately to live to finally get to a point where I feel happy, where I can deal with the life in front of me with hope and something resembling excitement. But then come those striking moments where I'm hit with a big decision, a momentous life experience, a rite of passage, a first, a last, and all I want is her; I want her to experience them with me. I want her advice, her luminous smile, and more than anything her arms wrapped around me.

I feel as though I'm failing in life; failing my education, failing at my job, and even failing my family. It is nothing I could ever describe to the satisfaction of my own mind. Logically, I know that I'm walking in the footsteps I should be walking in. I know that going to school, having a mindless part-time job, and living on my own are things that I should technically be doing. But when has my life ever fit into the mold  of what is considered "normal"?

If a tree falls in the forest, and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?

What I write in these posts is very similar to the tree that falls alone. I write and vent and think out things in my own mind, and push a bright orange button labeled "Publish Post", yet no one (at least to my knowledge) actually reads the things I write out. But even so, I feel as if I shared it with someone. It's almost the feeling that I get when I pray (I hope that doesn't sound too sacrilegious). I know no one physically can hear the words I speak, yet I feel a peace about giving them to the One that really counts. For me, writing is learning. I understand the things that race around my head in a frenzy when I sit down and type them out on the keyboard. It's as though I finally understand what I'm actually trying to say.

Things I Know

(1) I am blessed
(2) Life is a struggle
(3) Pain is real
(4) So is joy

1 comment:

  1. I read every one of your posts--even though it may be a month after you wrote it. I love you and think you are miraculously wonderful. Consider this a breath-taking hug.