I am 18 years old. I grew up in Orange County, California, and I now live in New York City (Manhattan). I like green grapes, and blueberry muffins (my favorite), and holding on to dreams so distant that they’re not quite scary yet. Dreams only start to get scary when you get really close.
In the past decade or so, I’ve tried to reinvent myself at least a hundred times. It often starts with an urge to change my hair, and then finally, my life.
Sometimes, it’s at a convenient time, like on January 1st, and I feel justified for giving in to such a cliché. Often, though, it’s on a Tuesday in the middle of February, in the middle of the semester, and I feel stuck. I’ve seen posts on Tumblr that say things like “it’s never too late to change who you are” (hell, I’ve even reblogged them!), but I’ve come to roll my eyes at philosophical musings that aren’t realistic.
Don’t get me wrong— sometimes, it’s helpful to be reminded that you are, in fact, in control of your life. It’s important to know this. But it’s also pretty frustrating to be presented these “inspirational” chants in such a way that implies it’s easy to transform your life. Because, honestly, it isn’t. It’s really, really hard.
I recently became transfixed in trying to get to the bottom of why I always seem to be seeking change, and I’ve come to accept that the reason is actually really simple: I’m (often) unhappy.
But the strange thing about this, to me, is that I’m also (often) happy. This year, in particular, was my first year of being in college and it has been filled with some of the loveliest, happiest moments of my life. So, what gives? Why can’t I just be OK with this?
I’ll point to something I remember Taylor Swift saying at her 1989 concert in August last year (an idea I’m sure she wasn’t the first to delegate, but hey, it struck me). She said, “Happiness isn't a constant. You get fleeting glimpses of it... you have to fight for those moments, but they make it all worth it.”
But even though happiness isn’t permanent, or a fixed destination that we can arrive at, we often end up treating it exactly like that. We try to “reach” a state of happiness. And when we can't, we panic. When life throws us moments of unhappiness, of frustration, of heartbreak, of loneliness… we panic, and then we feel like we’re "doing life wrong," and we come to the conclusion that we must start over. Or at least, that we should. The notion of a fresh start is very appealing.
I’m not here to say that we shouldn’t allow ourselves the illusion of a "fresh start." I know that I, personally, seek comfort in it; and it can be useful, even successful, in one’s attempt to become “happier.” (Again, this just indicating that one’s life has more moments of happiness in it. Still not a constant.) But after around around a hundred times of trying, and trying again, to start over, I’ve come to realize that it’s not as easy as a new haircut. Change takes effort, commitment, and a solid analysis of ourselves as well as what we want to change and why we want to change it.
But change also takes understanding. Not just from yourself, but from the people around you.
It feels rather helpless to be “stuck” seeking change in, say, the middle of the semester. Or the middle of high school. Or a few years into your job. It feels weird, or wrong, since people already have a specific way of viewing you, and have (inevitably) judged you by who you have already presented to them. In other words, it’s not easy to be, like, “Hey this is me now. K thx bye.”
People's perception of you is a huge part of why changing is so difficult; when people are rigid in how they view you, it’s super discouraging.
So, this is where I get to the point I’ve been working my way up to: We, collectively as a society, need to show more empathy and understanding. For ourselves. And for everyone around us. Because, guess what? We are all navigating this "life" thing together, and yes, it’s confusing as hell... so let's help each other through it.
I recently read a book called "I Remember" by Joe Brainard (a delightful read). One of the lines that really moved me in the book was, “I remember empty Sunday afternoons of feeling somehow all ‘empty’ inside.” Relating to this line surprised me at first… and then it didn’t. It made sense.
