First while I was cleaning I would start crying randomly, fall to my knees, and hug myself sobbing. It wasn't really that helpful to the cleaning process. Once I got a look in the mirror at myself crying and I thought, "I look beautiful." And I was surprised by the feeling of disgust that overcame me when I thought that. Disgusted because for a moment I thought I looked beautiful crying? Or because I thought I looked beautiful for a moment at all? I was even more ashamed because I thought it was a combination of both. That I was disgusted by all of it, because I felt narcissistic and gross. And I shouldn't feel that way just because I thought I looked beautiful, crying or no.
Then I had this feeling of giddiness. I thought, "There are so many things in the world to make me sad at any given moment. I feel beautiful, but I fear work. Or I love work and I feel ugly. Or I love work and feel pretty, but there's drama and conflict. Always something to make me feel sad. How am I ever happy, then? Why don't I just feel happy?" And suddenly I did. It was strange.
Then it leveled down to my regular level of contentedness.
But somehow I slipped down again.
I guess I feel overwhelmed by all of this, now that I'm not up and excited for Maine.
I mean I have Virginia Beach to be excited for. And university, but there's the stress of packing and stuff for that.
I am jealous that my brother gets to come home and meet up with Ben and play video games into the night with no need to wake up tomorrow. And that he can walk, because even when I had those times at 16, it was always with the downing that I couldn't walk because I had a dead hip and there were surgeries to prepare or recover from.
I wanted weekend trips and fun things. P-Town, Northampton, Maine. Camping in my backyard. Bonfires. Swimming trips. Amusement parks.
But I have to be realistic, because I'm an international student off to a university I can't in my dreams afford but somehow we're trying it anyway. So I have to work the 25 hour weeks, which in actuality are nothing since I should be working 40, in an immoral office setting. And maybe I'm doing good for some people with medical billing, OK good for a lot of people when it comes down to it, but it's maddening being the go between between these money-pinching rich doctors and money-pinching snooty mechanical insurance companies.
There's a fear lingering in me. And dislike. I am driven mad looking over my future summer from where I am now. Weeks of this office. Maybe spots of weekends else-where. But Virginia Beach and university... And I'll work hard in uni, I know...
But looking beyond that frightens me too. Aging. Life. What will it be like to leave school forever and have to be an Adult, truly? I like to think I'll be myself because I see these UUs around me who are still able to be childish and open while being adult. And I'm going to university to become proficient in a job that sooths my soul as well--ecology, environment, and not locked endlessly in an office.
Of course I'm still frightened. It's a big world. And aging... I have already come in contact with physical aging. I understand beyond even many of those far older than I.
My knees don't work, my neck protests, my spine sometimes detests me, one fibula is gone, I'm scarred, my muscles work against me, and my hip...Ah, my hip. Is it even mine? Mine in that it was given to me. Mine in that I love it for what it has given me. Not mine, in that it is ceramic and unfeeling. Not mine in that it was placed in me after removing my real hip.
Sigh. I'm afraid of aging because I see what has already happened in 18 years. I want to be like Tracy in Maine, up to 50 and still playing football with the guys. I want to be swimming to the island and shouting in triumph. I always Push Off being healthy for when I'm "older."
But I'm 18, I've been labeled "slightly obese," and I have now slightly high cholesterol. When is the time to get healthy? Not then, not later. Now. I'm afraid of that. Afraid to stop grabbing a bite when my friends want to go to McFatties or BarfoBell or KFCrap.
Sigh. I guess I'm just feeling it all tonight. It's hard coming back from vacation. I've never truly done it before. I've always loved going back to school. This is not school. This is a world I don't necessarily enjoy that I'm coming back to following vacation. This Work World. And I'm afraid for the future, because I don't want these feelings to overwhelm my one future.
I just want to be happy. Not forever happy, not always happy, not happy in every moment...
Just happy. A happy life.
And I'm feeling, now, that it's not so much the life that will make me happy. That it's me and my eyes and my heart and my spirit, or whatever it is if I have it. So I guess I'll just take a big breath and step forward.
I'm afraid. Will someone hold my hand with me?