Growing up, I craved a beautiful home with a white picket fence. I wanted a chocolate lab and five or six kids. I dreamt of running away from this town, from this state, and just starting over. I couldn’t wait for the day to come where I would find myself building a life outside of the world I knew.

When I was seven, I wanted to be a teacher. I used to sit at my little white table in my bedroom and lay out school supplies. I set up my teddy bears and dolls. I made lesson plans and taught my “students” how to write and the basics of addition and subtraction. I wrote on the board and created worksheets to give out. I spent my days lost in my own little bubble.

When I was 11, I fell in love with fashion. I woke up in the morning and stood in front of my closet as I ran my fingers through every article of clothing that hung on the hangers. I sorted through my shoes and found the perfect pair that correlated with my mood that day. I laced my wrists and my neck with jewelry. Every single look had a vision. My hair, my accessories, shoes, tops, bottoms… it all tied together and I adored the feeling I got when I left the house every day.

When I was 14, I sat on my bedroom floor with a stack of Vogue magazines next to me. I read every single one cover to cover. I cut out my favorite models and actresses that were draped in the most beautiful designer dresses. I filled scrapbooks with entire wardrobe ideas and I was prepared for any occasion. As I glued the photos on pretty pink cardstock, I dreamt of wearing the intricate pieces and feeling wonderfully fulfilled with the life I created for myself.

I fell asleep at night and fantasized a future in New York. The images were so vivid. I pictured myself getting on planes and landing in Milan, Paris and Barcelona. I saw myself working long hours and coming home to a gorgeous home, rich in architecture with a dark color scheme running throughout the house. I planned my walk-in closet and the king-sized bed with a fireplace in the corner of the room. I thought of the balcony I’d sit on at night overlooking the water while I sipped tea. My dreams were filled with experience and successful work, but they were always so lonely.

When I was 16, I walked through the doors of a credit union where I landed a marketing internship. I sat in a cubicle and wrote articles for the company’s blog. I researched products and put together pamphlets for upcoming meetings. I kept track of who was invited to future events and created newsletters to keep the staff as well as customers informed on the latest announcements. I left every afternoon and imagined living in my town and being a Marketing Director for a local business. I fancied the idea of being in the office from 9-5 and coming home to find my husband sitting with our daughter at the dining room table helping her with her homework. I imagined hearing the footsteps of two or three puppies as I opened up the front door. I desired this life that was full of tranquility, routine and love.

When I was 18, I was all over the place. I had trouble making up my mind whether or not I was making the right choices regarding every aspect of my life. I had absolutely no idea what was going on at all times. I couldn’t stay passionate about anything and I was changing my mind a million times per second. I didn’t know if I wanted to teach six-year-olds or become a stylist. I didn’t know if I wanted to spend my days locked away in an office, staring at a screen. I didn’t know if I wanted two kids or six. I didn’t know if I wanted blonde hair or dark brown locks. I couldn’t decide if I should’ve been in a relationship or if I shouldn’t have been. I was unsure of who I should keep in my life and who I needed to cut ties with.

My mind was a war zone but I brushed it off and assumed things would work themselves out if I kept pushing forward. I chose to commit to the Fashion Institute of Technology and I planned my move to the big city. Though I had many doubts and felt anxious about my decision, I was also thrilled. At least I was at first. The city was absolutely fascinating. The feeling I felt taking taxis from club to club and bar to bar at all hours of the night is inexplicable. My new home held so much action and adventure, it was liberating and I felt incredible. The restaurants served the most delicious food, there was always something going on and it was amazing to look out the window and see all the beautiful buildings. It wasn’t until two weeks later that I realized I had no idea what I was doing there. Halfway through the first week of classes, I called my mom while I was hysterical because I did not in any way want a career in the fashion industry and I was completely devastated.I didn’t care to roam around all day or sign up for fashion week. There was nothing appealing about walking into class and seeing everyone dressed as if they had just come off the runway. I have never felt so detached and so miserable in my entire life.

After my first semester, I transferred from FIT to Monmouth University. Though it was an easy decision to some extent, it was also one of hardest choices I’ve ever made. And it continues to be. I’ve expected so much from myself the last few years and I worked so hard to achieve every single goal I set so now, in a multitude of ways, I’m disappointed because I walked away from the life I worked my butt off for. I don’t know what I want to be or who I want to be, I just feel incredibly lost all the time. All I ever want to do is crawl back into bed and bury my face in my sheets because I don’t really know what I’m doing.

I’m not used to not having a monumental goal that I need to reach, and to say it’s throwing me off is an understatement. I have never not known what I’m doing. I’ve always had a plan, but I don’t anymore. I took my cards and threw them out the window as soon as I left New York. I’ve become so comfortable in my day to day life that most of the time, I feel trapped. I feel as though I’ve settled for comfort and I’m sleepwalking through my own life. I’ve so desperately sought after contentment and now that I have it, it disgusts me. I hate it. I don’t like routine. I like being busy. I like changing my days up. I’m in love with chaos. Chaos keeps me thriving. It pushes me. I love running a million miles an hour and having my mind race with all the dreams I have to reach. It makes me feel like I’m going somewhere, like I’m doing something with my life, like I’m going to be OK. Most people crave stability and living a relaxed lifestyle and I couldn’t be further from that and to be honest, I like that about myself. I like being fast-paced and moving from one goal to the next. I like getting stuff done. I’m not OK with an average life. There’s something so beautiful about hustling to get what you want and it infuriates me that I can't do that right now because I'm so out of my element.

I miss being the girl who knew what she wanted. I miss being the girl who had 12 various approaches on how to handle any given situation and was prepared for a million different outcomes. I miss having large ambitions. I miss being so fiercely passionate about my goals and dropping everything to go and get them. I miss the hunger I woke up with and the thirst I so desperately needed to satisfy. I miss seeing my entire future laid out in my mind. I miss the girl I used to be.

I dream of waking up in the morning and discovering the reasons behind all that has happened but as I’ve been reflecting and writing this article, I've come to realize that I can't go back and change the past. I can't prevent my inevitable growth. I'm starting to understand that you cannot try to make sense of your life because doing so is applying the life you have at this moment with the person you were. Trying to make sense of your life is seeing if the person you once were would be OK with the life you are leading today, but you cannot do that because you aren't that person anymore. More often than not, that is a difficult pill to swallow, but I am not the little girl I was when I was seven who saw life as a fairy tale. I am not the girl who fell in love with fashion when she was 14. I am not the person I was a year ago, or six months ago, or last week. I am not the same person I was yesterday. Throughout our lives we evolve. The aspirations we have and the people we are change in every single moment, every single day. My mind keeps telling me that I am a sum of everything around me and all that I do. I define myself by the school I study at, my job, my relationship status, the friends I have, the town I live in, my passions, the places I have been and the places I am going. For so long I have attached my success to people and to goals I accomplished. I’ve convinced myself that I am less of a person without those objects, but that could not be further from the truth. I've begun to recognize that I am none of these things. I am just me and as badly as I want to, I can not and I do not need to label myself.

I’m starting to fully believe it’s OK to be a little lost, because in the end, no one really knows what the hell they are doing either. I have been so delusional by the idea that I have all the answers and that I always will, but I don’t. It’s not possible to predict what is going to happen next and how you will react to it. The only answer I have right now, which is also the most difficult to accept, is to choose happiness. Go with what feels right and hopefully (emphasis on the hopefully) everything will fall into place. I know moving home and attending Monmouth is where I'm supposed to be. I’m supposed to be feeling all of these feelings and making changes in my life, even though I’m not entirely sure of the purpose behind it all. I may not fully understand any of it today, or tomorrow, or next week, but one day I hope I will see why every little thing that has happened, had to happen. One day I will be so grateful that things didn’t work out the way I once wanted them to, but for now, I’m just going with the flow of things.