I was up late a few nights ago talking to a friend about what made me sad. After talking it out a bit, I realized how much presently made me sad about myself, my relationship with others, my life in general. It's funny how talking things out sometimes makes you realize things you haven't seen in a long time. I realized I was no longer the same self who I once loved dearly.
Maybe we never reach a period in life where we're 100 percent happy with ourselves. We could always be better at this or that, more attractive, more studious or smart, but I think there's periods where we get as close as we can get. I was once a person who was incredibly confident in herself. I knew my capabilities, my passions, and most importantly, what kind of person I wanted to be and project to others. Through different relationships, hardships, bad test grades, life in general, I lost that person.
I lost me.
I forgot what it was like to put care into myself. As a person, I care deeply about the others in my life. I don't feel whole unless I put effort and care into others, yet in the past year, I realized a lot of people don't return effort in the same way. This isn't to say the people in my life are harsh or uncaring, it's just a different kind of care. When I was younger, I had incredible support around me at all times. Through hard moments, college applications, boyfriends and breakups, I had shoulders to cry on and ears to listen to my every thought. I felt whole because I could drop whatever I was doing to return the favor at any given moment. That's how I show love.
Others, don't necessarily show love in the same way. It tore me down. I felt like I wasn't capable of loving myself if others didn't blatantly love me. They say you'll get back what you put into the universe, but that isn't true. The universe morphs those actions and returns them in other forms, which we may not notice or appreciate.
I may not have the same kind of support I once did, but that can't stop me from loving myself. I need to stop looking for a boyfriend to fill the void and feel close to somebody, because I should feel close to myself. I can redirect that focus and put effort and care into who I can be. I should do so without feeling ashamed or embarrassed of needing the time to rediscover who I am. It's like reorienting yourself with an old familiar place. At first, you'll get lost and frustrated, because you know this place and you love this place, but over time, it will become just as familiar as it once was. Maybe a building has been torn down, or the landscape changed after a storm, but that doesn't change the fact it's the same loved location.
It's time to pack the t-shirts and sweats up and pull out the bucket list. The person I loved was a person who did the things she talked about. She didn't live vicariously through the lives of book heroines, although she did love to read. She put effort into her appearance, because it was important to feel pretty, rather than being told she was. She said what was on her mind without fear of being mocked or looked at as "different," because she was different, and she embraced it. Most importantly, she kept herself available to those who sought her company and advice. One day I'll find a person who will reciprocate the kind of effort I put into them, just as I have in the past. Until then, if you need me, I'll be off being awesome.
