I bailed on a party with some friends tonight. Basically any
social event where I won’t know the majority of the people involved creates
high amounts of anxiety and requires an excellent set of circumstances for me to
follow through on any more. It’s probably the grouchy old lady inside of me
that gets stronger with each passing year. At any rate, it’s been a quiet
evening.
In the midst of making cupcakes for a meeting tomorrow,
cleaning my kitchen, hitting the grocery store twice, and finishing some
homework, I was left with time to reflect on the summer, and the current state
of my life. You know how you have those times when you’re just unsatisfied with
who you are? When you find even yourself annoying? When you’re convinced that
every person that hasn’t wanted to be a part of your life had just cause? Is it
just me?
I am semi obsessed with progression. I always want to be
working on some aspect of my life, because I want to be good. I want to be the
kind of person that people want around. I want to be pleasant and kind and
selfless and funny and clever and everything else that I admire in others. And
because I’m slightly neurotic, I convince myself that by working towards
something, I’ll become something better. In many ways, it’s why I went back to
school. I left a job I loved and a career that was going places because I
thought grad school would be hard and refine me just a little bit more.
(TOTALLY right on the hard part, by the way.)
A good friend checked in on me, and I expressed to her some
of the things that I have been feeling lately. I am blessed with the best of
friends! She made me feel loved, but also helped me change my thinking. That to
discount my personality is to discount everything I’ve gone through. I
certainly didn’t start life the way that I am today. I became this person bit
by bit. In her words, “Who you are is a product of so many difficult,
heart-wrenching, wonderful, painful, loving experiences. You are exactly who
you are supposed to be right now.”
The book The Velveteen Rabbit contains one of my favorite
sentiments ever expressed in literature:
“Real isn't how you are made,' said the Skin Horse. 'It's a
thing that happens to you.’
'Does it hurt?' asked the Rabbit.
'Sometimes,' said the Skin Horse, for he was always
truthful. 'When you are Real you don't mind being hurt.'
'Does it happen all at once, like being wound up,' he asked,
'or bit by bit?'
'It doesn't happen all at once,' said the Skin Horse. 'You
become. It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't happen often to people who
break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally,
by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes
drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things
don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to
people who don't understand.”
So I guess the key lies in making the best decisions I can,
being as kind as possible, taking life in stride, and trusting the rest to the
grace of God. Although I’ll probably move forward with my plans to master
archery anyway.
