I had a big day on Wednesday this past week—a major presentation in one of my anthropology classes, an internship interview, and an exam in one of my accounting classes—and after that I decided to cut myself a bit of a break since I hadn't really taken one up until this point (nothing longer than a few hours, anyway). The semester has pretty much been go, go, go since it started over a month ago and I need a little bit of breathing room every once in a while.
As a result, I spent the vast majority of the last three days doing pretty much nothing. I curled up in bed and watched a bunch of cheesy movies, binged a little more Brooklyn 99, thought about writing but didn't bother, played some music, and made a trip to the barn yesterday and the park today for a good ride and a pleasant walk, respectively.
I also spent some time flipping through old pictures, and that involved a brief glance at my senior photos. They're only three years old, but it feels like it's been about a million years since they were taken. Things have changed so much—I've changed so much—that they made me pause.
I remember what I went through to get those taken—going shopping to find the perfect sweater, practicing my makeup, hoping that my hair would behave, keeping my fingers crossed that there would still be some leaves left on the trees because it was getting a little late and I really wanted to have an autumnal theme. This is my favorite time of year and I wanted that to be reflected in these photos that were meant to be so significant.
They are, but maybe not in the way that I would've initially expected.
This is my favorite time of year, but it's also the time of year that has repeatedly been the most difficult for me. It's the time of year where I've lost a lot of people, be it because they passed away or because our relationship fell apart, and it's the time of year where I've wound up hurt on multiple levels. Be that as it may, I still love it when the trees start changing and everything begins to feel crisp outside—what can I say? I'm a sweater weather kind of girl.
I've had a really difficult time in October and November on multiple occasions, but there are things about this time of year that I love anyway. In some ways, they help to soften the blow that comes with the things that have hurt me, and looking at my senior photos reminded me of them because those photos remind me of how much things have changed for the better.
Some things about me are still the same. I still love curling up under a blanket with my cat next to me so that I can read or watch a movie or do some writing. I still love making an unnecessarily large number of cups of tea. I still love taking out my guitar and playing the songs that just feel like autumn (though I'm a lot better at most of them than I was three years ago). I still love knitting every time the weather starts to get cold, and I still take way too long to finish all of the projects that I start.
Some things have changed, though.
My room has changed with me a lot over the years. Its walls have gone from white to turquoise to stripes to lilac, and now the paint is grey. My bedding has changed with me too, and now it's fairly simple and accompanied by what is probably one too many throw pillows, something that I used to avoid because they were too cumbersome. There's new furniture and a new configuration, and the things that I have up aren't what they used to be (which is partly a virtue of the fact that I still haven't put my bulletin board back up even though I painted my room in March).
My bookshelves are at the foot of my bed now, where I can see a decent percentage of the books I own and the majority of my mug collection when I'm getting ready to go to sleep. I keep the top shelves stocked with the most significant books from my life—the Harry Potter series, His Dark Materials, The Lord of the Rings, my massive collection of Tamora Pierce novels, It's Kind of a Funny Story, the Artemis Fowl books, and many more. I've got my favorite mugs on display too, the ones that say things like "I know I'm not perfect but so close it scares me" and "Everyone is entitled to my opinion" and "I don't need a therapist, I have a cat" and "So much to do, so few people to do it for me."
The music that I listen to when I'm curled up in bed is different too. It's not Taylor Swift any longer (for reasons that have been outlined in past posts). Now it's more likely to be Matthew Barber or James Bay or Bon Iver or David Gray or the playlist that I made of songs that are largely acoustic. In moments like these I like to stick to things that feel quiet, things that go along with my mood—not sad, not like I used to be, but quiet. Settled.
That's the biggest change, really—me.
I am so much more settled than I used to be. I was listening to my iTunes library on shuffle a couple of weeks ago and I heard a song that I haven't really paid attention to since middle school, and it just left me with this feeling of how much I've changed since then, since high school, since last year even.
I used to feel so insecure within myself, so unworthy of the people around me, like I needed to fold myself down and make myself as small as possible (which probably has something to do with why I still slouch so much). I don't want to do that anymore.
I saw a post on Tumblr once which essentially said "Deciding I was pretty was one of the best things I've ever done for myself—one day I was just like 'I'm pretty' and I was." I don't know if I would say that one day I just decided that I'm pretty, but over the last few years I've realized that I am. I've realized that I'm pretty, that I deserve to surround myself with people who respect who I am, and that I really am as intelligent as all of those people told me I was (these realizations didn't necessarily occur in that order).
I've realized that I don't need to be small anymore.
It was around this time over the last couple of years that a few people shoved their way into my life with "Only I can harass my regulars" and snarky discussions about the business school and the statement "You're both sarcastic assholes, you'll love each other." The group of people that I've collected at school is weird, don't get me wrong. We're all odd in our own special ways, but put us together and it works. I don't know how, I don't know why, but it does. I spend my days laughing now in a way that I never used to.
I didn't plan for these people. I didn't plan for the one who knows how I'm feeling even before I do (which is honestly kind of weird sometimes, but that's fine), or the one whose mere presence is enough to make me laugh no matter how upset I am (something that he makes fun of me for, but it's fine because he makes fun of me for basically everything), or the one who sends me stupid videos when I'm sick and makes weird faces at me all the time (which I gladly reciprocate). They fell into my life (or barged right in, in some cases), and they have filled it with so much happiness that I will never be able to thank them enough (no matter how much they may annoy me, which can be a lot—you guys are fucking weird but I love you).
I don't need to be small anymore because they don't expect me to be. They don't expect me to be quiet, or to be the one who goes along with everyone else just because. They rag on me, but they also know where the line is and they make a point of reminding me of how smart I am on a fairly regular basis. My life doesn't revolve around theirs, and their lives don't revolve around mine. We cross paths, we come and go, and the phrases "I'll see you later" or "I'll text you" actually mean something now. They aren't statements offered up in an attempt to seem friendly—they're the truth.
I don't need to be small anymore because I don't expect myself to be. I've barely scratched the surface of what I'm capable of, that much I know, but things are astronomically different than they were this time three years ago and that's the most important thing.
When I curl up in bed like I did this weekend, I'm no longer doing it because I'm too emotionally dull to face doing anything. Now I'm doing it because I earned a weekend of relaxing, of getting Snapchats from my friends that make me laugh, of making a mental list of things that I want to talk to them about, of laughing when I remember that conversation we had a few weeks ago, of knowing that when I walk into the coffee shop on Monday, I'm going to see at least one of them. I'm doing it because curling up with my cat, a good movie, the scarf I'm working on, my thoughts, and a cup of hot apple cider makes me feel content, and that's what I'm supposed to be, isn't it?
Content is what I'm supposed to be, or so I was told three years ago, and I am (at least most of the time). I'm content with the path I'm on (I think I've finally figured it out, though I'm sure it'll change a bit and I'm going to roll with it every time it does), with the people in my life, with who I've become, with the things that have happened to me, and that's not something that I could say three years ago.
That's not something that I could say a year ago.
I have to say that I'm okay with the way that things have gone.
Peace and love x
(Yeah, yeah, the British one loves to tell me that Americans have ruined cider, but that's his opinion and it's wrong, end of story. Apple cider is delicious and he's in denial.)
(I suppose the point here is this: if Mr. Smith were to ask me that question that he used to ask me every day, the answer would no longer be me shrugging my shoulders. It would be "I'm good.")
