may 24, 2020

it’s my birthday. and it’s gemini season. what does that mean to me? (buckle in.)

today, i’m 20. a whole 2 decades old. i know, i’m dramatic - i’ve seen so many friends of mine turn 20 before me, and so many people will turn 20 after me, so maybe turning 20 isn’t that big of a deal. sure, i’m prone to romanticizing my life - but, weirdly, my turning 20 still feels so significant to me. it feels like i’m finally, actually old.

i find myself thinking about when i was little. about how i used to want to grow up so badly. about the “adult” or teenage life i imagined having - how even simple things like having a job or wearing mascara used to seem so glamourous to me.

i guess i was one of those little kids who never really appreciated being a kid because i was always looking forward to growing up. to the next big thing. i am immensely privileged for the childhood i had - always a roof over my head, food on the table, loving family - and i do not take any of that for granted. but still, i remember as a kid, i was so frustrated by my age. i would feel so agitated when the adults in the room would stop telling their stories when i’d walk in, when i would have to go to bed at family parties knowing the adults were still awake downstairs talking - being reminded of my age felt like a slap in the face. i was desperate to grow up and to be taken seriously.

i used to vow to myself that once i became a ~teenager~ (warning: take a shot every time i say the word teenager), i would never take things like being able to drive a car or have my own cell phone for granted. i would promise myself that once i was older and had some degree of freedom, i’d make the most of every second.

i have a vivid memory from one of my birthday parties as a kid. my mom had decorated the whole backyard, my entire extended family was over, lots of cake and presents - it was a whole thing. i was wearing a special pink dress for my birthday and there were matching pink balloons tied to the deck, making the whole day picture perfect. and i remember standing by one of the balloons, fiddling around with the tie, until i had accidentally undone it. and so, i remember watching the balloon float away, irretrievably into the sky. unknowingly, i had let it go.

logically...who cares about losing one balloon? i mean, caring about the environment the way i do now, i probably wouldn’t just release a balloon into the sky for no reason - but being young at the time, and losing merely one balloon at the birthday party that i was so lucky to have, it probably would’ve been easy to shrug it off. no one else noticed as the balloon flew away, so it was just me there, watching it. even now - while i recognize its relative insignificance - i still remember it. i remember being a young girl standing there in my pink dress, watching the balloon fade further and further from my vision. i remember how both it and i were so small in that moment.

looking up into the much larger sky, we are reminded of how small we are as well as how temporary. likewise, birthdays (and the balloons that tend to accompany them) are temporary reminders of our aging. they don’t stay around for long - i guess that’s the whole purpose of them, they’re really only there for the celebration. and like i said, when i was younger, i thought the passing of years was the best thing that could happen to me - each birthday helped close the gap between being a kid and finally being older. so i waved goodbye to the balloon, to being little, and i waited and waited until i could be something more.

and yes, this was years ago. when i was a little girl. and now i’m turning 20. but i think about how i felt so small in that moment, but still so lucky to be there, and how letting go maybe felt symbolic in a way. and somehow being a kid doesn’t feel so far away. 

the years i had as a teenager have been so formative and so transformative. so transitional and so positional. mostly i don’t think i ever really imagined they’d end. but the years come and go, they pass with birthdays and like balloons - at some point, you have to let go.

in the midst of those years, and in the midst of my growing up process, i stopped wanting to grow up. it started to get scarier and scarier as it got more real. as much as i could, i would pretend it wasn’t happening. when it came to things like choosing a college, trying to imagine myself as a functional adult with a career and goals and responsibilities, really any type of thought that requires heavy self-reflection - my plan was to avoid it at all costs. i always thought that i’d have more time, that being a teenager was all i was ever really meant to be. i got the freedoms that i always wanted as a kid - i got to have a job and drive a car and have my very own phone and stay up as late as i wanted - so, what more could i really want?

don’t get me wrong - i was more than ready to be done with high school. i remember not really being sad at my graduation, because i didn’t really see it as a significant ending point for me. i guess i just didn’t really let myself actualize what was going on - that a phase of my life was completely over - that i had to keep growing up and make choices for myself.

and so, i had graduated high school and ended up at a college that i hadn’t put much thought into choosing. there was nothing wrong with the school itself, and it’s a really great place honestly, but if i had known myself at all as a senior in high school i would’ve known it wasn’t for me. but, of course, i didn’t. so there i was.

the thing is: phases of my life ended even when i didn’t want them to. even when i wasn’t prepared for them to, when i didn’t think they’d ever actually end. they ended anyways. the balloon flies away into the sky even if you didn’t mean to set it free.

let’s be blunt. i hated freshman year of college. i had absolutely no idea what i was doing, all i knew was that i didn’t want to be doing it. mostly, for the first time in my life, i felt like a colossal failure. i felt like i had spent my whole life wanting to grow up and wanting to be an adult and now that i was, i couldn’t do it. it’s a weird experience to be 18 or 19 years old and feel like your life has already passed you by. 

most of all, i was so comparative and competitive during this time. i was constantly comparing my experience to other people’s around me or on social media - and feeling like i was missing out completely. not that this is necessarily the path for everyone, but i felt so much pressure to go to college and to make it the ~time of my life~. when it became clear that i was not doing well, i felt like i had slipped entirely off track of the path set out for me.

so after a year of that, i finally transferred schools. and i really thought that this was it - that now, i had it all figured out. fall 2019, i was off to a much bigger school, much farther from home, pretty much the opposite of where i had been before - what could go wrong, right? i decided that i had pulled myself out of my first-year slump and that i was finally going to get back on track, to have the college experience that everyone else was having.

all seemed fine and well until i got there and i immediately knew i had to leave. i wanted so badly to be able to finally enjoy college, but at that point: i wasn’t in the right headspace to be able to. the depression that i thought had been the worst of my life at my first school was honestly a hundred times worse when i got to my new school - and now, as a sophomore in college, i felt like there was an insane amount of pressure to make up for lost time. i put these crazy pressures on myself, and things escalated to the point where i couldn’t even set foot in a classroom building without having an overwhelming panic attack - to the point where i ended up taking what they call a medical leave of absence (sort of a gap semester) from school and going home. at this point, it was blatantly obvious that i needed to seek help, even though it had taken me so long to accept.

when i first got home, i was beyond embarrassed. it felt like i had admitted defeat and failed, for real this time. i begged my mom not to tell anyone that i was home, i didn’t want to leave the house. they say there’s something that happens when you’ve been a student all your life and then all of a sudden you aren’t - you realize that school has been a foundational part of your identity, and you have to learn to navigate who you are outside of it. and even though i still knew i wanted to go back to school at some point, i definitely experienced some variation of that same identity crisis. i felt miles and miles behind everyone else. without the structures that i’d always depended on to give me a sense of identity, in this case being school, etc - i felt like a stranger to myself. to reconsider yourself against a blank background is a really, insanely tough process - but i think it’s one that pays off.

this time away from school, during which i got the therapy i needed, was undoubtedly the most challenging and defining period of my life thus far. this was where i learned the single most valuable lesson i’ll now carry into my 20’s: comparing my timeline to others’ will never achieve anything positive.

it used to make me feel like i was drowning when i would compare myself to the people around me, or the people i saw on social media. to see that other people were still on the trajectory i’d imagined myself on - 4 years of college - when i had fallen so far off track. and i won’t lie, sometimes that type of feeling crawls its way back in.

but, now i know so many things that i didn’t when i left school back in september. i know that the timeline i am on is uniquely my own - and the individual timelines that everyone else is on are uniquely their own, too - and that no one’s journeys are ever exactly the same. i learned to accept that i needed a few extra months to really do some soul-searching, to really construct an identity and goals for myself, to restructure my relationship with myself, with school, with my body, with food, to be able to lead a happy and healthy lifestyle in the future.

i know this may seem cliche, and i also know that i still have so much to learn, but i want to take this time to say that nothing positive ever comes out of comparison in any form. the truth is, that even when i’d compare myself to the journeys of other people and feel like a failure, i had no idea what that said person was experiencing. the only feelings i’ll ever feel are my own - the only person i’ll ever be able to control is myself - and so why would i compare that to the people around me?

it’s funny, how i spent my childhood wanting to grow up so badly only to grow up and realize that i still felt like a child. and so i think that even as i physically grew up, it took my mind a little bit to catch up - it took me a second to really examine who i am and who i want to be.

and so now, i’m 20. i have a lot more intention behind how i choose to carry myself and the decisions i make than i once did. and i’m so proud of who i’m becoming. but of course, some days, i still question it - i question what i’m doing, i question who i am, i question where i’m going.

i look back on all the versions of myself that are gone, the versions of myself that i can’t get back, and sometimes i’m sad about it. sometimes i wish i could go back and tell myself everything i know now.

i think back to times when i was 15 when i was a lot meaner than i should’ve been, and i wish i could go back and tell myself to be a little kinder. i think back to being 16 and being terrified to eat in front of anyone in the cafeteria at school and i wish i could go back and tell myself that there’s a lot more to life than being skinny. i even think back to being 17 and 18 and how i would bite my tongue so many times instead of speaking up when i know i should’ve. i think back to all the nights i would stay up and cry and wish i was anyone other than myself and i wish i could go back and help those versions of me find a little more peace.

recently, i came across a quote that really aligned with everything i’ve been thinking lately. it said: cringing at your past just means you have improved as a person. and i think that is such a valuable mindset to carry - what a comfort and relief it is to relish in the distance between past you and present you. when i look back and am embarrassed, or ashamed, or saddened by the way i’ve acted or the way i’ve spoken - it just goes to emphasize that i would react differently now, that i have grown. and i think i’ll always be growing. maybe some day i’ll read this back, and reminisce on the 20 year old melissa, and cringe at her. even though i like who i am now, i hope that i’m continuously on the way to being a better version of me in the future. so, while i can’t go back and talk to 16 year old me, i can learn from her mistakes - i can ensure that 20 year old me is a completely different (and better) person.

i used to see each passing year as balloons that flew away - and that i could never get back. that i didn’t even mean to let go of, but now were gone anyway. and somewhere along the line i became so scared to let go. the truth is that sometimes i held on to the past a lot longer than i should’ve.

i’ve learned that even if you hold on to a balloon as long as you want - it’ll stop floating eventually. it will run out of air or helium or whatever keeps balloons afloat. and then, what do you have left?

now, i’m more conscious of the passing of time, and that there’s nothing i can do to stop it. i’m also doing my best to make peace with that. even though i’ll always have my moments of self-doubt, i’m at peace with the process of moving through my life at the speed that is best for me. too much focus on the past or the future has always led me to feel like my head is spinning - i’ve learned to be a lot more grounded in the now.

even though i’m a different person now - when i look back, i sometimes feel connected to past versions of myself. even though i can’t be them anymore, i’m still thankful for all the versions of me that have carried me into today - even the versions i’m not so proud of. i still lay in my bed at night and i listen to Lorde and i find myself connected to the 16-year-old girl i once was, who would do the same thing. i roll over at 3 am with a burst of inspiration and i type a nonsensical poem into the notes app on my phone thinking it’s a masterpiece, and it stays in there alongside the ones i wrote on similar nights in 2015 - none of them make sense after i wake up. i watch Lady Bird like 3 times a month and it always gives me the feeling like i’m in high school all over again. i’m still growing up, still learning. i know that who i am now isn’t who i was then, but sometimes it’s nice to be reminded that the balloons that floated away into the sky aren’t always as far gone as i might think.

i think, maybe, that it’s nice to exist as a combination of all the versions of myself that got me here. i think that’s the best part about evolving, growing, becoming - you get to keep all the best parts of yourself and you get to learn from all the parts of yourself you no longer want to keep.

i wonder - is there anything more beautiful than the human capacity to always begin again and again and again until we get it right? 

even though things can get complicated and it might not always seem easy to move forward and to move on, there is so much beauty in letting go. letting go can be an act of love - it can be a lovely thing even when it’s the hardest thing.

i’ve learned to forgive myself for needing help sometimes, and to accept and embrace the pace at which i move through my life. i’ve learned that i don’t get to choose how fast my life goes by - i can’t slow down the process of growing up. what i can do is choose how much i allow myself to grow - how much of the past i allow myself to be free of.

the night before my 19th birthday, i slept in the same bed i’m sleeping in now - in my childhood home, my family asleep upstairs. i wear a lot of the same clothes. from the outside, i probably look pretty much the same. what’s significant, though, is just how differently i fit into this same room now, how differently i see myself when i look in the mirror. i guess it took me finally surrendering to myself, finally allowing myself to completely restructure my world, to finally start to get to know myself. i always thought that the solution to my problems was some sort of change (location, etc) - and while i still believe that we should always be trying to expand our comfort zones outside of ourselves - what a wonderful journey it is to venture inwards. sometimes leaving your comfort zone isn’t so much an external transition as it is an internal one. and though at times i wish it didn’t take such a drastic and emotional year, i am so happy with the person i have become - the person i am still becoming.

today, i’m turning 20. and i have to let go of my teenage years, to close the book on all my triumphs and all my regrets and all the pieces of me that i won’t carry into this next era of my life.

i hope i don’t sound too cliche, but i really do believe that what feels like the end is often the beginning.

and somehow i still feel small again, i feel like i’m staring up into the sky at a balloon that’s floating away from me. and i’m learning how to not feel scared at the thought that i can’t ever get that balloon back. when you spend too much time looking at the sky, you tend to miss what’s on the ground. so, if i can offer you any advice, it’s to let the balloon go. accept the process of letting go and moving forward - because i think what’s coming next is so much better.

so…here’s to getting better! here’s to crying on your birthday and embracing it! here’s to cringing at this post next year! and most of all… here’s to 20!

thank u so much for reading,

melissa