I spent a few hours reading today. Currently still on the wind-up bird chronicle. I believe it is my third time I’m reading this since I bought it a few years ago. Reading calms me down, it has this meditative effect on me and I worry less, things fade into the background. But when I stop reading, the characters are shelved away and I get this sense of loneliness. I have nothing against extroverts but I understand that there is so little excitement that introverted hobbies generate. You can’t observe someone reading a book for three hours, you can’t share in their experience even if you read that exact same book. Or meditate, or do yoga. It is just not very interesting, like watching a dollop of paint slide down the wall.
I am looking out of the window and it is not yet ten pm, the world is winding down and preparing for a fresh start to the week, and all I have are car sounds and a realisation that another week has passed, October will soon be over, and I have nothing to show for my whole year. Apart from the usuals- starting a new job, starting a church community, starting my new hobbies and then falling apart inside.
There are things going on. Definitely. Today, it was toddlers class, then bible study group-getting to know new people, and then tomorrow I’ve dinner with friends from my sustainability module. Nothing matters still. I am just sitting in a puddle of fear and worries. I don’t know how to explain the feeling that time is passing, and my adulthood is going away so quickly. I am only 23, I do not need to have enough earning power to travel three continents in one year, yet there is this vastness of living ahead of me that I don’t know what to do with. And my stomach hurts. And I have so many flaws. You know when you get compliments about how this is personal and on point, and how you are a lovely person, and then this little cat starts scratching your back demanding that the truth be told- that 99.999% of what I do is driven by external validation and fear and the need for perfection, that while completely sincere and honest, it is also completely disgusting. I don’t know how it can be a perfect paradox but it is. I love kids, I love being around them, I love caring for them, but I also know that I completely suck at it. And I know that the people are too lovely to tell me that to my face.
If I die today, my most noteworthy accomplishments would be 1. Toddlers now say good bye to me without looking like I am the hideous monster that hides in their closet 2. Published an article in the company newsletter and 3. Revved up the company cell group and 4. Managed to pay off a bit of my parental debt 5. Have not gained any sexual experience yet, because I am not supposed to.
There are many things that I don’t want-
I don’t want to wake up when I am 26 and realise that I have done nothing in the past four years
I don’t want to neglect my self and I also don’t want to sink too deeply into solitude because I am scared that my mind will break after self-imposed exile and I will not return to being normal. Or what I can pass off as being normal.
I don’t want to share my personal space, but I also don’t want to be alone.
Still not sure if I’m heterosexual, but I don’t have a choice in that matter.
I don’t want to do a half-assed bible study session every single week.
I don’t want to be a stressed out porcupine breathing loudly and cursing clients with every assignment, I also don’t want to wake up at three am to complete proposals, and I really don’t want to make work a focal point of my life but I know what I have no control over my assignments now.
I don’t want to die without ticking things off my bucket list- setting up my own NGO, exploring all genres of memoirs.
I don’t want to marry for convenience, I don’t want to die alone, I don’t want to grow old.
I don’t want to be a muddled cat with hashimoto’s disease stuck in the hospice.
I don’t want to resist negative emotions but I don’t know how to tame my mind.
I want to write long snail mail to people without freaking them out, but there is no one new and exciting in my life whom I can be genuine to without worrying that they will be too attached to me.
bend, mind, but not break.