(I'm in the midst of a pretty big life transition right now, and I have lots of ideas and lots of things to say, but I'm just not quite there yet. So in lieu of new posts, I'm going back and publishing some posts that have been sitting in my drafts folder for far too long. New content will be up and running soon! This post is originally from June 2014, but a lot of the sentiments in it could apply to now, as well.)
I returned to California last week, after a two-week stay in Minnesota that went by in the blink of an eye and felt like it lasted months at the same time. It's crazy how much can happen in just a couple of weeks; I saw so many people and did so many things that it felt like I spent the summer.
I've been feeling my typical post-trip sadness, which I didn't think was going to happen this time until I started to feel a familiar tug in the last few days of my time there; the ache in my stomach, the sudden desire to see and do everything I hadn't yet had the chance to, as though I would never get another opportunity.
Humans have emotions for a reason, and it's important to listen to them. Mine happen to be of the intense variety, so I spend a lot of time attempting to battle them into submission, which I think you can probably guess never helps. So this time, I'm allowing myself to lean in to them. It's okay to be sad. It's okay to feel. It's okay to slow it down, mentally knead through the shit going on in your brain, try to find the source. Right now, I believe the source of my feelings is not knowing. Not knowing what the right choices are, not knowing where I belong, not knowing what the future will bring. It's hard not to wonder what would have happened if different choices had been made in the past, and it's especially difficult to make decisions that can influence the days to come, because there's no guarantee you won't end up right back where you started later on, wondering about those choices as well. The best you can do is your best, with the knowledge and experience that you have at this exact moment in time, and take each consequence as it comes, whether it be joyful or difficult (which is SO much easier said than done).
I do know that no matter what happens, love is present. The people in my life, both in Minnesota and California, bring me a ridiculous amount of happiness. The shared histories, the penis jokes (yes, there are enough to make them worth mentioning), the creativity, the embraces, the understanding that life is hard and in order to make it worthwhile we need to be there for each other and allow each other to be vulnerable. I've never felt more cared for in my life. Also, the other day a wise thirty-seven-year-old told me that his thirties have far surpassed his twenties in terms of peace of mind and calmness, so I'm going to assume that this whole twenty-something angst thing will eventually resolve itself, leaving me with only wisdom and tranquility as I age. Right? Right. Let's just stick with that for now.
Happy Hump Day, y'all.
Don't you frown when you're feeling like that. Only love can dig you out of this.