Isn’t it interesting how day after day everything seems to be the same, yet when you start to look back you can see how much has really changed?
Ten years ago, I think all I really cared about was how much time I got to spend with my dad, how much I could learn from him. I used to love when something was “our thing”…like when he taught me how to play Chinese checkers or all the times I helped him around the house. Even a simple trip to Home Depot for some gardening dirt probably seemed special in my little brown eyes.
Five years ago, all that mattered was finding a place where I felt like I fit in because home no longer felt like home, and it hadn’t for a long while. And when I couldn’t find a place to call home, I felt like a bird trapped inside a cage waiting to be set free. I felt lost, and I felt as if no one understood what I was going through. I felt like…I knew there was more out there for me than the simple day to day life I was stuck living. I mean, doesn’t every teenager think that? Five years ago, my grades were probably the last thing I cared about. I started getting the lectures about deciding what major I wanted to pursue. I started getting the lectures that pushed me towards the medical field. I started getting the lectures about how I should be grateful for the opportunities I had since my parents didn’t have a choice at my age.
Three years ago, I wanted to be done. I wanted to move out. I wanted to finally see what the world had to offer. I wanted to be a bird set free. And at the end of that year, I wanted to run. It became, not the desire to venture out in the wild but, the need to escape everything that surrounded me. Everything around me just caused me pain and suffering seemed like the only thing I knew how to do.
Two years ago, I was trying to find a career path in which I would excel. I was trying to find a purpose in the mess of a life I was living. I was picking up the pieces of myself and trying to find a place for everything. I found myself learning how to love to myself and every piece of my broken heart. I found myself trying to start fresh once again.
Last year, I decided that I was going to start with a clean slate (or as clean of a slate I could get my hands on). From the town that I grew up in and the town I found myself attending school in for the past few years, I chose to register in a college campus closer to my house. It meant returning to the town I lived in, and the town I was forced to abandon a couple years back, but it also meant that I would have a chance at finding a new name for myself.
Today, I couldn’t be more proud.