At times I feel like I add meaning to too many things. I often feel silly for making a big deal out of life events as big as career changes to small things such as bike rides that are mediocre to most. I look to other people and notice how they don’t announce the fact that they’re going to school again or planning on riding a 100 miles without a reason other than wanting to that day. The main problem with this is that I’m often comparing my own actions against those of the people around me. I know it’s bad and all it does is harm me, but when you’re addicted to something it doesn’t matter if you know it’s side effects, you’ll do it regardless.
Adding meaning to things is a gift that I take for granted, much like my heightened feeling of emotions. When I root around in the reasons I add meaning to things, I realize that the meaning has been there all along. I just needed to recognize it. I’m changing my career path because I realized that I had a deep want for helping others. I’m planning on riding a 100 miles because I realized it was the best way to give myself closure to an unexpected death. I’m writing about this past year of my life because I realized I wanted to strike a chord with someone, anyone, that might be going through the same things as me and feel less alone.
If I had to describe this past year of my life as anything, I’d say it was very DIY. I’ve had to grieve and give myself closure over a relationship with my dad well before his death. I’ve had to manage a massive heartbreak without the acknowledgment of the other person. I’ve had to work my butt off and learn an entire curriculum (in two weeks) by myself to get my position at my new job. I’ve had to learn and unlearn good and bad habits within my personality, mental health, and the world as we used to know it. The list goes on.
That might sounds like a list of complaints… but it’s really a list of accomplishments.
While I say I had to do these things on my own, and did, I wasn’t truly alone. I am very fortunate to have a solid support system. A family that cheers me on, a sister that understands me better than anyone else, a handful of friends that continue to grow with me, a boss that believes in me, and a hell of a therapist.
But the only person that’s with me every second of every day is God…
Just kidding! It’s me.
I’ve worked harder than I ever have to improve the relationship with myself, my worst critic.
I was raised to believe that rigidness equals strength. This year I’ve started tearing that idea down and replacing it with the knowledge that strength comes from vulnerability. I’ve worked so hard to build walls around myself only to realize that I needed to be on the other side of them. I’ve felt unheard for so long only to realize that I was never being loud enough for anyone to hear me. I thought that if I listened to people the way that I always wanted to be listened to, if I was there for people the way I always wanted someone to be there for me, if I loved people the way that I always wanted to be loved, that I’d somehow fill my empty cup.
As it turns out, I am my own water source. The only person that can fill up my cup is me. Depending on other people is exactly like waiting for rain in a drought. It may come from time to time, and when it does it’s so refreshing, but it can’t be my only source, I’d die.
Loving myself makes it easier to love other people with honesty. Being vulnerable with myself makes it easier to be vulnerable with other people truthfully.
So going into this new year I will continually be turning inwards, feeling my emotions, realizing the meaning in it all. Just as Feist says, I feel it all.
Here are some resources if you’re interested in self healing!