Yes, I know this sounds like a morbid post but I think it is due to our conditioning. But what I mean by death is really just the end of something. And while endings can be sad, they also open up endless possibilities for new beginnings.
Many faiths believe that based on how you behaved on this earth, your death could be a time of great joy or a time where you make up for all the wrong you’ve done while living here. And of course there is the state of purgatory — where you aren’t really here or there. God’s waiting room — if you will — until the grand judgment day.
In my opinion death isn’t really so bad. Considering how often it happens, you’d think people would be more used to it by now. Yes it hurts to lose someone you love and it can be hard to fill that void but I feel that is the lesson in any death…..DETACHMENT…..We as humans love to own things, we say things like…’that’s my toy,’my boy/girlfriend, my house, my car etc. But in reality the only reason we’ve been put on this earth is to share, our lives, our relationships, our experiences etc.
Things, people and circumstances are ours for as long as they are of service to use then they must go where they are most useful. Knowing when to let go, that is the art of detachment. And in a world like ours, it’s a skill set that separates the boys from the men. (or girls from the women) No, it isn’t easy but yes, it is often necessary to let go.
This is something I have been known to have a terrible time with. I want to hold on to everything, every thought, every memory. I still have a piece of paper my best friend gave me in 6th grade to remind me of the first day we met. (she used it to teach me a folding game)
I used to be the same with grudges, I would NEVER forget what you did to me, my family or my friends. I was always watching you. But carrying all that anger eventually got exhausting.
Now a days I feel a major shift happening inside me. Each day I feel completely different than the last. Sometimes I don’t know whether I’m coming or going. I find this makes people who know me uncomfortable. We like the familiar, it’s easier to know how to respond to someone when you know where they’re coming from. That has not been me recently.
I sense a death of sorts happening within. I’m not as interested in the same things and oddly enough the more I change the more I find myself reverting back to the real me, or the 12-year-old me. The me that existed before I needed to be cool or fit in. 13 is a rough age for everyone but especially for women, we suddenly go from watching kids shows about girl power to ones that glorify us for our looks more than our abilities. If you aren’t careful you’ll easily get lost in the gossip, clothing and makeup routine expected of us beyond that age.
But before my teens I was a shy, quiet bookworm, who loved to write (songs, poems, stories; you name it) and dreamed of being a world famous singer. (Like Whitney Houston) I was kind of nerdy and I was okay with that. I had these embarrassingly large plastic eye glasses and spent a good chunk of my elementary years being called “Bookworm.” Like seriously, that was my nickname.
Boys would ask me out and I’d say yes because I didn’t want to hurt their feelings. I don’t recall actually ever hanging out with too many of them. I just wanted to be left along with my books, I would’ve said yes to anything to make that happen.
I’d nearly forgotten about that girl when alas — two years ago the transformation began. For this reason I think whoever you are at 12 is the true you and everything else is bullshit. Sure I love makeup and nice clothes, who doesn’t? But whatever makes your heart sing back then probably always will. I still pretend to sing to my thousands of fans in the shower. I still try to write my own version of Beowulf. (of which I’ve recently obtained a brand new copy) I still believe that you should try your darndest to love everyone, although some people make it so hard– as do I, most times. (lets be honest here lol)
And while “teenage me” is dying, I think what’s really happening is I’m finally discovering and becoming my true self.
The real me doesn’t want to get dressed up all the time. (Stare all you want, I know I’m a hot mess) Doesn’t want to wear makeup everywhere. (Do you know how long it takes to put that stuff on?) While I prefer you liked me just as I am I’m alright with the funny faces I get at times for my subpar style. (Haven’t you ever heard of ‘sweatpants chic’?)
Honestly, I get it. I used to be you. I used to see that girl in the checkout line rocking baggy sweats and a Tee and think, “Seriously? Like why even bother leaving the house?”
So while it may sting a little (not gonna lie, wish we girls stuck together more) I just can’t be bothered to please you anymore. There are a lot of women that relate to this dilemma. And I’m so happy to be over that phase of my life. (at least for now) For me this has been a positive death. The death of my ego and the need to be the best and the brightest.
So while I’ve got a long way to go, I feel I’ve also come a long way. And hell, life isn’t about where you’re going, it’s about who you’re becoming. I want to go to sleep each night feeling comfortable with who that is and, these days, I truly feel I can. I know I don’t have it all figured out (anyone who tells you they do is lying or delusional) and that’s okay too. It’s all going to happen as it’s supposed to happen, when it’s supposed to happen.
And that’s that really.