I found some lumps in my neck a few weeks ago. They appeared out of nowhere and I thought the first one was a muscle knot, but then it didn't go away and I discovered three others of varying sizes, just chillin', hidden underneath my skin.
I went to the doctor. She told me they're nothing to worry about; probably cysts of some kind, or fatty tissue, or a myriad of other possible benign causes that will probably go away on their own with time. She had me get my blood taken just in case (I already got the results back and all is normal), and advised that I apply hot compresses to the lumps to help loosen and dissolve them.
When I first found the lumps, my mind jumped to one conclusion and stayed there: I have cancer. I am dying. I'm too young to die. What was the point of my life? etc. etc. I sank into depression, accepting my fate and wondering how much longer I had left to live. It seemed appropriate that I was dying; my life has seemed pretty pointless for the past few years. I thought to myself, Maybe it's survival of the fittest and I'm just not fit.
When I write these words down, they seem so dark, but these feelings are the reality of my life right now. It's almost embarrassing that I am having these struggles, what with the amazing life I've had and the opportunities that have been practically handed to me. My life is a good one; my reaction to it is not. I don't deserve to claim any suffering, and I know it. There is gratitude missing, and that's on me. I'm the only one who can control how I feel and how my life plays out, but so far I've been ceding that control to unknown forces and have been wallowing instead, taking on jobs I don't like and then staying with them because I can't find the motivation to pursue the things that mean the most to me.
I've been avoiding my computer a lot lately. I've fallen behind on my blog and on reading others' blogs, and I've been attempting to streamline the content that comes in to my life on every social media platform, because I can feel my brain wasting away a little bit more every time it consumes another Buzzfeed list or justifiably up-in-arms Gawker article. The world is so big, and the internet is a part of that, but it drags me down like nothing else can. Even today, catching up on the 200-plus posts in my blog feed that were full of inspiration and beauty, I felt myself sinking down, down, down, instead of being uplifted. I don't want to read about people living their lives any more; I want to live my own and have it be one worth reading about.
I'm at a something's-gotta-give point right now. Something has to change. A mega-watt jumpstart is needed, stat. I'm on a precipice, looking out over the edge, but my body is frozen, unable to take the leap, so I need to find something to give me a shove. But if you're stuck because you're stuck, how do you get unstuck? I am beginning to have a vague sense of what I want to focus my life on, but I'm unsure how to go about attaining it. I see people living my dreams, but I can't leave Los Angeles, and I have responsibilities and a man that I love, and I am unsure about how my current circumstances fit in with my passions. Or if my passions are actually permanent, or if they are fleeting; I am prone to spontaneous whims and unreachable fantasies.
This is not a Woe Is Me post. If anything, I've been very good about keeping these feelings to myself, because who wants to hear that the little blonde girl with the #blessed life is having issues? But I have been having deep discussions recently with those I trust most, and many of them have been able to relate, so I know it's not just me who is dealing with all of this. Underneath the fluffy Thought Catalog pieces and Twitter feeds and memes about twenty-something-angst, there is something real going on. My dad said recently that he thinks young adults these days are taking longer than their parents did to get to a place of stability; to find themselves, to hit their stride, to discover their purpose. He didn't say it in exactly those words, but the sentiment was the same. The world is expanding. There are more options now. Women don't automatically slip into motherhood in their early twenties; men don't necessarily get an entry-level corporate job with hopes that they'll be with that company for life for the sole purpose of providing for their families. These are good things. But more options means more choices means more paralyzing fear that you're going to make the wrong one. The people I admire the most are the ones with discipline, who make the choices anyway and if those choices don't work out, make other choices to move in a different direction instead. Because even if they mess up, at least they're moving. I'm trying to figure out how to be one of those people. I honestly believe with all of my heart that I can be one of those people. But right now I'm just lumpy.