Oh the Irony

The more I grow up the more I wish I could grow young. I know that sounds weird, but I also know that most of you know exactly what I mean. I think that, deep down, we all have a little Benjamin Button Syndrome.

There are moments that I ache to the point of tears when I remember how things used to be. Will I always be that person that feels the grass is greener on the other side? Will I always be restless and impatient for change?

When I was younger I could not wait to get older. I could not wait to have more freedom, more money, and more responsibilities. Now that I am an adult I feel like I’m less free than I was as a kid.

Ironic is it not?

Life is ironic.

That is my conclusion.

Writing is a Double Edged Sword

As a writer I very often suffer from the paradox of least wanting to do what I most want to do. Writing well takes great effort and care and it is not always enjoyable, but I hunger for it. There is not much that is more satisfying to me than writing a piece that I myself approve of.
We are, after all, our own worst critics. 
That’s the thought for today. I’m sorry I have not written much on here in a while. As I’ve gotten back into the swing of my next term and floor set has been taking place at my job, things have been extraordinarily busy. 

To make up for it a bit, here are a few photos I have taken recently that have almost nothing to do with the title of my post. 

   
 
(It’s me! Hello everyone! đŸ˜‰ 
As always, I love you all. Thank you so very much for your continued support despite my lack of consistency. You are all so amazing and encouraging and talented. 

Keep pushing forward! Good thoughts and prayers being sent your way. 

Happy Sunday! 

Depression

I debated about sharing this with you all, but I have to admit I’m at a point where I do not know where else to go and I’m just so tired of being stuck. 

I think I have struggled with this since my mom died and we picked up and moved halfway across the world immediately after. I can not begin to tell you the emotional, mental, and even physical shock I went through with all of this happening at once. I lost my best friend, I lost my non-related friends, my hometown, and everything that was dear to me as a ten year old girl. To make matters worse, we moved from the far west to the far south east, which I have to say was an incredible culture shock. 

It took a lot out of me. I went from being an extreme extrovert who didn’t care what other people thought and loved being the center of attention, to this shy, timid shell that was not comfortable in her own skin. I was awkward and me, and everyone else around me, knew it. 

I was different at school and I was different at home. I never was like any of my family. I never got along with my father, I was five years younger than my closest sibling, I looked different, acted different, and believed different things. 

As the youngest I had a backwards mentality that I had to be strong for the rest of my family that was falling apart at the seams. I showed very little emotion for mom’s death apart from anger. They took that as “she doesn’t care.” But I did. 

I struggled to relate to anyone with anything that really made me, me. I struggled with who I was to begin with. I struggled with the emotional roller coaster that was inside my chest and my head at all times. I struggled with my faith. 

As the years went forward, I slowly started to stuff all of that down, suppressing it and trying to move forward. But even though I made a lot of good friends and put some pretty good academic accomplishments under my belt, at the end of the day I still felt empty, afraid, alone, and sad. 

It was not long before I was in college and many of those emotions were drowned out by apathy. As my family struggled with illness and depression and loss of jobs, friends, and cars over and over again and the weight of taking care of some of them started to fall more on my shoulders, I think I just gave up inside. 

At first I blamed myself. I thought my apathy was just me being lazy and selfish. I tried to change things over, and over again. I tried to find things to be motivated about. I longed to be passionate, to accomplish something great, and to make meaningful relationships. But the more I pushed myself to finish school, the more friends I made, the more I went to church, the more I worked, the more apathetic and empty I grew. Little sparks here and there just were not enough to light my long extinguished fire. 

I started sleeping more on days off, turning in homework as late as I could or sometimes not at all (I thought as long as I pass, that is enough), eating when I was not even hungry, spacing out with friends, avoiding family, and just plain not caring. The only part of me that kept me going was the part of me that wanted to avoid hurting those around me more and the thought of doing all of this work for nothing. 

I have to admit… Even those last two things are starting to lose their impact. I have reached the point where I know if I don’t do something I’m just going to become completely lifeless and drop it all. 

The part of me that hates that is writing this. The part of me that doesn’t want to be alone anymore. The part of me that wants help. 

Am I alone? 

Introverted idealist 

  1. I like the idea of travel. Like any other 20 something I enjoy curling up on the sofa and living vicariously through Rick Steves (or maybe that’s just me). I make a mental list of all my favorite places he visits and tell myself one day I’ll just drop everything and go. So far I’ve maybe gone to the mountains in my own state once this whole year. Really got a jump on that one.
  2. I like the idea of being an artist. I’ll read books about art and familiarize myself with enough famous artists to feel sophisticated and then I’ll sit down and sketch a horse in a hipster location and wonder if anyone else sees how artist-like I look (truth be told I got bored before I even got to the shading). 
  3. I love the idea of being an extrovert. I look at photos of my friends hanging out with their groups of friends and make mental notes on all the social gathering invites from my church and think to myself, “this week I’m gonna be a kool kid and broaden my community!” (By the time I get off work I groan at group texts and curl up with a book) (way to build community Kat! You’re a shining star in the eyes of those around you)
  4. I like the idea of being healthy and hiking the Apalachain trail one day. I look at pictures and read adventure blogs and I’m super pumped up to the point that those brownies call from the kitchen and my favorite show comes on. Then I look in the mirror the next morning and wonder “what happened yesterday? Didn’t you work out- oh wait..”

It’s at this point I realize the real me is tshirts and sweatpants and writing in my candlelit room.

The real me is coffee and a quiet evening on my porch watching the sun set with a good book close by. 

The real me is a foodie that needs to get her butt in shape and duck tape her mouth shut because she can’t resist a good brownie.

The real me prefers keeping up to date through YouTube to big crowds and socializing for hours, not because I’m shy but because I enjoy my alone time and people can be a bit exhausting sometimes.

The real me likes Walt Whitman more than she should and has headphones as a permanent fixture around her neck. 

The real me is an introverted idealist and I’m kind of ok with that.