The transition from adolescence to adulthood is a story often written about in quirky teen romances, and this type of dramatized translation created a stereotype of first love and awkward hook-ups. However, as I am in the very beginning of learning how to manage myself without the guidance of a high school schedule or a parental conscience, I've experience very little of the "college life" I was promised on Netflix.
A consistent theme in my life has always been seeking a lifestyle that is beyond my age. Because of this, when I moved into a dorm this last year, I immediately wanted out. Of course the freedom was refreshing, but it also became a source of anxiety fueled by a fear of being misled by ideas I brought into my new, adult life. Turning eighteen proved to be a phenomenon of feeling like I was simultaneously turning 4 and 40. I was reborn into a completely different world with new people, responsibilities, and ideas, yet I felt the pressure of having complete control over my future, and there was no way to escape that pressure without making a decision.
And somehow, within this clusterfuck of emotions, I felt a lack of comfort. This made it that much more difficult to navigate the rebirthing of my academia. I was missing the feeling of silly napkin questions at spontaneous family dinners, the warmth of sitting by my dog at the hearth of my fireplace, and even waking up to my sister's obnoxious FaceTime calls with her boyfriend(s). Living on my own proved to be much more lonely than I fantasized throughout my adolescence.
Possibly the worst part about this separation from my family and high school friends is that I noticed I only had contact with anyone when there was an emotional event. The strongest example of this had to be my dad calling me only to update me on how much he couldn't stand to be in a relationship with my mom anymore. In the midst of a possible divorce, I wasn't a child in need of comfort. I was an outlet for a troubled man who stopped seeing me as his daughter the second I left his home. Without the constant contact of my long-time high school friends to help me through this uncomfortable and devastating situation, my loneliness exponentiated.
Because of this newly acquired loneliness, I had to find that homey feeling in other moments of my days. I began to value alone time with myself, a cup of green tea, and a blog. I found a surprisingly beautiful relationship come out of one of those dramatized Netflix hook-ups I mentioned earlier. I learned to find peace within studying, relaxing, and even the pressure of work and class, because it meant that I was moving in a direction (wherever that direction may be). However, the air of divorce settled around my relationship like a morning fog, and a mixture of having my heart badly broken by past relationships and my parents' possible divorce--the first love I have ever experienced--I put a sweater over the heart I always wore on my sleeve.
To sum up this random diary entry that I'm awkwardly trying to put on the internet, I decided that I need to follow the clichés of common motivational advice. I started to repair myself, and the best way I know how to do that is to go after crazy goals and see where I land. So instead of wallowing in all of the negative emotions of 2018, I'm beginning to put effort into writing every day about what inspires me and what motivates me, and even what upsets me, for this new year.
So to my very minimal subscribers, welcome to my first post, and welcome to my self-growth.