Yesterday I peed in a plant pot, on the side of the road, next to a church.
Sometimes you have to do what you have to do.
Apparently I had to do that.
Next line of business…
Lately I’ve been dealing with this uncomfortable feeling of belonging. Like I’m somehow at this stage of my life where I don’t really care what others think of me, because I feel like I fit into life just fine. It’s uncomfortable because it isn’t my norm. I’m so used to being on my toes and feeling like I needed to do everything to the expectations of everyone else. I’m not sure when that changed but it did, suddenly it seems.
I’m less afraid. Whoa, that’s a big one.
That’s not to say that I’m fearless, although I’d like to be. I think I’m finally just at the point where it’s like, this is what you feel like every day and it isn’t changing but you are so buck up or get off the ride. I feel settled. Like magically this heart feels somewhat like mine again, and these bones fit my body better somehow. I’m less afraid of myself.
Less. That’s the keyword there.
Sitting in my dorm room, away from my family and in this awkward transition period of my adult life feels natural and still so foreign. This place, this college, the college that I once dreamed of returning to after each summer is now a place of both solace and discomfort; if those are emotions that can exist together simultaneously. I love the rose gardens, tall brick buildings, and promise of better futures for those around me, but it doesn’t feel the same this year.
It reminds me of that time. That night I sat in the emergency room that I’d driven by over and over before and never thought of. I was shaking, frightened, clammy, fragile, in an overly-large wheelchair, next to a bunch of strangers. A man with a buzz-cut that smelled like car oil was tackled by a police officer on top of my mother and I that night, around 2AM. I hid behind her as best I could as his pants fell to his ankles and he was handcuffed.
When I think of this campus I think of that night, and I hate myself for it.
How does one accidentally ruin something important? That’s how.
Wait, let me check myself before I wreck myself. Everything happens for a reason Jess, you know this. You literally live by this.
In other news…
I’m so tired of being told not to let anxiety control my life. It’s like I’m a fish in a fish bowl and people are constantly feeding me BULLSHIT FLAKES until I die. If telling someone to mellow out and stop letting anxiety run rampant on their life was actually effective, mental illness wouldn’t be one of our nations leading killers. Honestly.
It does more damage than it does good to use anxiety and other mental illness as a catch-all for behaviors, ideals, and emotions that may be completely unrelated.
In all seriousness life really is like living in a fish bowl. Like a tiny goldfish, we often feel trapped and confused. But, also like the goldfish, we feel content and even happy. Have you ever stopped to think, for us the world is our ocean quite literally in that we have the whole world at our fingertips. Whereas for a goldfish, the fish bowl is its world. It doesn’t care because everything beyond the fish bowl is unreachable and therefore unattainable. I know people that look at life the same way. Goals and aspirations are at their fingertips but still so far out of reach that taking a leap for them doesn’t feel worth it.
I suppose it’s all about character.
What does a goldfish have to lose?