I have absolutely no idea what I am doing. I'm 22, I just graduated college, and now I feel like I am just waiting for my life to start. Does life ever feel like it's started? Will I ever feel like a person? How am I going to take care of kids when I can hardly take care of myself? These are questions that I ask myself on the regular. But here's the cool thing - the more I admit to my friends that I have no idea what I am doing, the more I realize that I am not alone. When I told my therapist that I wished there was a class in college called "How to be a Person" she laughed at me. It seems that while floating around in this big crazy ocean of life can feel isolating, I'm not alone in this. You, dear reader friend, are not alone in this.
Heres another thought I have on the regular: There are so many freaking things I want to do with my life! And I am constantly torn between reassuring myself: you're only 22 years old..you have about a billion years left to do all the things you want to do, silly Jessica! and hating myself: What a waste these past 22 years have been. If I had started working to be where I want to be when I was born, I'd be set by now! WTF, Jessica! Why do you procrastinate so much?! It's a weird dialogue that goes on in my brain. And while I've never admitted that I have these conversation with myself, I'd like to imagine that my friends would be just as supportive of this sort of madness as they are of these lost feelings I am constantly discussing.
I feel like I would be a hypocrite if I didn't admit this one thing: While I do feel terribly lost 98% of the time, I have a nice little comfy job that is waiting for me (well, it's actually the exact opposite of comfy. It's terrifying since I'll be taking care of little lives). I'll also admit that I am very superstitious and paranoid, and I recently had to pee in a cup for said job; I am really worried that the j I smoked with friends two months ago at Firefly is going to appear in my pee even though I know that's not how drugs work.
Brains are so weird. Am I the only person who hates themselves for the thoughts they have? I am sitting here at my desk wondering will anyone like the stuff I am writing? But then I hate myself for having these thoughts because I should be writing this ~just for me~ and I shouldn't care about what anyone thinks. My therapist recommended that I read this book called Getting Love Right by Gorski because she thinks my dysfunctional upbringing could have something to do with why I suck at relationships. In the book, a fictional character named Susan (who comes from a functional home, congratulations Susan) explains how thoughts and feelings work: "I know that I am not my thoughts. I am the person who thinks my thoughts. I also know that I am not my feelings, I am the person who experiences my feelings. I know that I am not my behavior, I am the person who chooses to act or not act" (p.37 ...Are citations required in a blog post? Idk. I feel guilty not using them/ I don't want to get sued). I DON'T GET THIS! Has my dysfunctional upbringing screwed up my brain that much?! But if I am thinking the thoughts, then how are they not me?! If I care about what other people think about my writing, that is not me? But that is me! I don't know, man. Words and life are weird and this sort of turned into a big rant more than anything else, but hopefully someone else is feeling my feels. And hopefully someone else understands Susan's feel, because I really don't get that chick.
