But I Don't Wanna Grow Up

"Surrender to what is.  Let go of what was.  HAVE FAITH in what will be."

Today one of my best childhood friends had a baby. 

You know how I feel like this?  

I feel like, "WHAT THE FUCK," that's how I feel. 

Another of my friends-- my best friend since I was 7 years old -- is getting married in a few months.  70-some days, I believe the countdown is now. 

Again ... what the fuck. 

These kinds of things have been bothering me quite a bit.  Everything.
Me teaching.  

The people around me --these women who were just little kids with me like, yesterday -- doing all these grown-up things like marriage and babies.

And my irrational desire to go back in time and do something simpler. 

Now that I'm in my second year of this really uncomfortable and seemingly endless stretch of life, I'm realizing my problem: 

I am FREAKED THE HELL OUT about growing up.

I mean, I'm in this deep, existential crisis about it.  Like now that I'm technically, unarguably an adult with a career, I have no fucking idea who I am anymore.  

I feel like, in my classroom, I should be one of those little people screwing around in the back of the classroom.  That's where I belong.  That's where I am comfortable. 

Instead, I'm the one with the lesson plan in hand bossing people around.

REALLY!?!? 

What the fuck.  

That's all I can say, most of the time. 

I wish there was a rewind button. 

Or a pause.
Or even a fast forward. 

I don't know.  Something. 

Everything is just...uncomfortable. 

All the time.

But what is there to do?  What the hell is there to do? 

All there is to do is keep living through this thing.  Keep moving forward through this life that gets turned over on its head all the time.  This existence that is constantly confusing.

All there is to do is to move forward.  To not panic and give up, to know (well, to trust) that God is doing something, taking you somewhere good, even if it is somewhere that you really don't want to go at all. (e.g. adulthood)

Onwards, we go.

Onwards

"There are far, far better things ahead than anything we leave behind."

-C.S. Lewis

This is so difficult for me to believe -- that good things lie ahead.
As I mentioned in my last post, I feel like I'm getting quite a bit older. 

Yes, I'm 23.
Yes, "my whole life is ahead of me."
Whatever. 

I miss some of the old things.
And I sure as hell don't like not knowing what comes next.  

I miss old friendships and less responsibilities, having a little more time to do those things I love and not having to deal with quite as much of this running around panicking about how am I going to finish these lesson plans for tomorrow, how am I supposed to have time for these three heaping baskets full of ungraded papers, and, of course, how the hell am I supposed to keep all these damn crazy kids in control? 

Yes, I am only 23.  But life has become significantly more difficult.  

I know it's important to embrace the future, let go of things in the past that no longer exist and, well, just to live today.

Isn't today enough?  

I suppose so.  

I'ts just that today can be a real bitch sometimes.    

And if today's such a bitch, what does tomorrow look like? 

That being said...onwards, I guess.

Ah, To Be Young Again

I miss writing so much! I miss everything! I miss being young (I am 23 and very old now) and creative and artistic and having so much energy for everything and wanting to stay up doing cutesy artsy things! I teach middle school. And even though I'm 23, I feel some days like I'm 53. I AM SO TIRED. Lately, I've been calling the building in which I teach a "living hell." And it's not because of the kids, or the teachers, or the curriculum, or anything like that. It's because of the heat. It's fucking hot on the second floor. Just like I imagine hell is. It is exhausting. Last year was my first year teaching, and it kicked my ass incredibly. It was the most stressful, most difficult year that I have ever had. That being said, I'm a little insane and decided to go for year two. Here I am. My point is this: I don't write like I used to. In many ways, that's good. I imagine it's healthy and normal for me to grow out of my 18-year-old mentality. There were a lot of really stupid parts about me as an 18-year-old. There were quite a lot of lessons that I hadn't learned, truths that I hadn't yet discovered. But there were some that I had. Just a few. And I wrote them down, and they were beautiful. How shocking. Five years later, I can still say that I wrote beautiful things. What I miss is writing beautiful things. I still write, here and there. It's a habit that I don't think I'll ever be able to break at this point. But I still miss this. Writing for an intended audience. Telling stories. It's different from the journal writing that I usually do. It's nice to censor and edit myself every once in a while. It's nice to have an audience, even if it IS imaginary. I will try to record some stories, here and there. I'll try to pick this blog up again. I don't want recognition; there's a reason I'm writing from this old high school e-mail address and not my current one. I don't need to be noticed, not at all. I just want to be doing something that I love. And keep doing and doing and doing it. Here's to [parts of] being young again.