Girlhood
It’s been funny moving out here and seeing myself through the eyes of strangers, instead of through the eyes of the people who I’ve always known.
Today my landlord called me a shape-shifter. He goes, “every time I see you, you’re like a different person.”
I believe that’s who I really am, right now at least. Truly just blending into my surroundings, occasionally speaking out when I need to or feel the desire to. Slowly finding my voice.
In all honesty, Oakland has been the greatest experience of the Bay Area for me so far. I feel way more at home here than I did in San Francisco. This past month, from working at the farm to moving into the Oakland pad has just been incredible. My anxiety is way less than it used to be. My interactions feel more authentic. My off-days are few and far between.
I truly do believe, in a weird way, that I am letting go of the past.
I am moving forward. Moving on. Moving on with a new set of friends and a collection of good memories to keep propelling me onward. And my longtime friends are meaning more to me than they ever have before. The beautiful thing about growing older is seeing who is still standing next to you. And my family, god, I wish I could be better for them. But I hope they know they mean everything. Especially my mom and dad.
I’m finding myself through relaxing, through not forcing anything. Just letting things be and, I repeat, not forcing anything. There’s no point in constantly working or stressing. When we sit back and finally sink into the moment, we find we have everything we need.
My roommates here in Oakland are the best. They’ve helped me learn so much about community and about love, in the short month I’ve been here with them. Strangers a month ago, we’re quickly becoming something more. Something I’ve never really known before. A comfort that comes with growing into your self. I don’t have to wear a mask here.
The ultimate goal is to not have to wear a mask anywhere anymore.
Tonight, one of the roomies shared her dinner with me. Tuesday we took a yoga class together and I supported her at an A.A. meeting. The best parts of the night are just coming home and hanging out in the kitchen and chatting. Enjoying life together. Accepting each other for who we are.
These are the things I couldn’t do in college. That I missed out in college. I was unable to relax and be in the moment. College was stress, constantly worrying about what was going to happen when my 4 years were up. Constantly wondering what I could work on next. I realize this sacrificed a lot for me. There were so many moments that I missed, just because I was caught up in my own stories, own worries.
As I learn more about what it means to live- truly live in community and in love- I am excited. It’s like opening a new door and finding the exact thing you were looking for inside.
Maybe this all means growing up.
I found a journal entry from this past February, around my birthday.
It read:
Yesterday I turned 23-years-old. This was the first year that I had cried on my birthday, and not because of one too many whiskey and cokes.
I cried because I realized I am dying.
Truthfully, I was emotional even before the clock struck midnight. My final hours leading up to the big “2-3” were spent in aloof daydreams and abstract contemplations. I sat at a table with thirteen practically strangers, other young people involved in similar social justice work I’m doing (more on that later), but I was far-removed from the present.
All I could focus on was the wall clock within eyesight. And as I eyeballed that tacky clock, one with Satan-like geese posing next to cattails, a wave of fear rushed through me and held on tightly, clinging to my sensitive bones. In five hours I would enter a new realm, one step closer my “mid-twenties” which sounded, quite frankly, like death.
Maybe that’s my first problem, that I look at aging with disgust
Or because I have the feverish need to reveal who I really am
and although I wish I could be Emily Dickenson-like, secretive and sly about her truths, my soul yearns to emerge from the shadows for some reason that I don’t even fully comprehend myself.
Sometimes I am almost so stressed by the pressing reminder of the clock, that I don’t even know where to begin making my mark on this world.
youth is fading away.
I am afraid I am not doing enough.
I want time to stop.
My girlhood is long gone, no longer a part of me, but rather a blurry flip book of past-selves that change like the moon-phases. A sepia vignette of beauty and pain.
That was 9 months ago. I was a different person then.
I wonder what I’ll shape-shift into tomorrow?
So cheers, friends. To growing up. To getting older together. To coming-of-age in this weird, weird time period we’re in.
Always remember where you came from, but remember, where you are going is beautiful too.
You know, it’s all gon be alright.