Hello wild ones! I’ve been battling some stuff lately. It may very well be because of the excess of hormones flooding my system due to my monthly visitor, but it’s been fucking me up, so we gotta talk about it.
This weekend I had breakfast in bed with my brother, it’s like our Saturday thing. He gets tacos and we eat them in my bed and talk nonsense to each other for an hour. This nonsense talk had a lot of talk that was not nonsense. We talked about the future. About what I was going to do when he moves out in a few months to go further his education elsewhere. I hadn’t really thought about it having any kind of affect on my life as a whole. He’d be going off to school somewhere and I would keep working at the job I hate to support myself. And then he asked a question that’s been asked of me a million times, but coming from him was different.
He asked if I ever thought about going back to school. I swear, I’ve been asked this question more times than I can count, but I usually just roll my eyes, deflect, and don’t think about it again. But coming from my little brother, who is about to be 21 and currently busting his butt to get enough credits so he can transfer to the University he wants to attend it was different. He really wanted to know. Typically, I think people ask because they’re just being asses or I feel like they’re telling me my life as is isn’t good enough, but Wyatt just wanted to know. So, I told the truth.
Of course I’ve thought about it, but it’s usually in passing or because I had a dream that I was back in high school with my whole life ahead of me. I told him that I felt like I was too late. It was too late. It was a ship that had sailed. But that if I did go back to school it would be to become a teacher. Being the supportive kid he is, he of course encouraged me. Told me it was never too late. “Chels, I go to class with people who are mom’s age. It’s never too late.”
But it feels too late. I feel like I had my chance and I blew it. I let myself down. How am I supposed to recover from that? That feeling of deep disappointment in myself?
That damn kid opened up a worm hole. I started to think about it. I could go back to school. I could get my degree and become a teacher. I even talked about it with M last night after dinner. But those thoughts have started to cause more problems than I intended. Next year will be the ten year anniversary of my graduation. Ten years. At first I made a joke that it made me feel old, but honestly it makes me feel like a complete failure.
Ten years. I have nothing to show for it. I work at a job I hate because I have to. I have zero social life. I can literally count on one hand the number of people I consider friends. I’ve got nothing. I feel like nothing.
M asked me more questions last night that really fucked me up too. She asked, “When you were in high school, where did you think you would be right now?” I didn’t even have a real answer. When I graduated the only thing I focused on was getting out of the small town where I graduated. I didn’t have a real plan. I had no idea what I wanted, I just wanted out. But answering that damn question made me realize, it wasn’t the town I was trying to escape, it was just me. I thought that by going away I would find who I was meant to be. That didn’t fucking happen.
Then she asked, “Where do you see yourself in the future? What do you want to do?” Still have no real answer for that. I told her that I just wanted to be somewhere I could make a difference. That’s the reason I wanted to be a teacher. I want to go to work everyday knowing that I have the chance to make a difference in someone’s life. Which of course made me realize that my job doesn’t make a difference. That I don’t make a difference in anyone’s life. Not even really my own because I let myself get stuck here. I do the same fucking shit every damn day.
How sad is that? I’m insignificant. Of course I’ve always known that in the grand scheme of things I was insignificant, but looking closely at my life I realized it wasn’t just in the grand scheme of things. That hit me upside the head this morning as I was trying to fall asleep, which of course turned into me staring at my curtains trying to keep myself from crying. Didn’t work. I sobbed. I’m tearing up a bit now thinking about it again.
It’s easy to distract myself from that sad fact when I’m reading, that is why I read. This is why I pretend everything is okay. Because the moment I start to think about my life it depresses me. I’m going to be twenty seven this year and I have no idea who I am or where I’m going in life. I don’t even know where I want to go in life. I told M, I just want to be independent. And I want to be happy. But that makes me wonder if I’m ever going to be happy with myself?
Until tomorrow, stay wonderfully wild!