|24 and counting...
||[Jan. 18th, 2009|12:53 pm]
I'm fairly certain no one reads these journals anymore, which is the exact reason why I feel like I should begin writing again.
I turned twenty-four a month ago and am still unsure how I feel about it. I've always been a big dreamer- and my challenge, in turn, has always been actually living those dreams. I think a lot, and talk a lot...but I don't really DO a lot. I thought that by 24, I'd somehow be further in life than where I currently am. I'm not even sure by which standards I'm measuring my life, but it feels as if I'm falling behind. Again. Every few years or so, I get the distinct feeling that I've got much to catch up on. Right now, it seems as if the marriage/baby race is going full speed everywhere around me. It doesn't necessarily bother me in my day-to-day life, it'll just sneak up on my occasionally- and then all of a sudden, I feel as if every direction I look, people are married or popping out kids right and left. There may be a slight exaggeration to that, but when looking at it from this sort of viewpoint, it's hard not to slightly exaggerate:)
A few months ago, Heather and I had breakfast at a really amazing pancake house-place downtown (I cannot for the life of me remember what it's called...if I did, the millions of people who (don't) read this, would probably know what I'm talking about...). Anyway, it was during that meal when I really started to think that much of my emotional and relationship baggage stemmed from my relationship with Mark. I can't talk about this with my friends, really, since it was almost six years ago. Six whole years ago...(even just typing that out is weird...feels much closer). I really truly believed with my whole heart that Mark and I would be together forever, that we would be married and have this amazing life together with travel and kids and...everything. These past few sentences are a mere drop in the virtual bucket of my history with Mark, but for length purposes, I will continue. A few days after that breakfast, I began communicating with Chad. We emailed for about a month before we went on our first actual date. I called my mom (okay, and several other people:) right after that date and told them I had met the man I'm going to marry. Again, I really truly believed this. Things with Chad were awesome- he was, and is, an amazing Christian man- who I felt did care very much about me. But then I don't know really what happened. And a month later, I still really don't. I will not keep begging for closure, as desperately as I want and need it. Somehow I've fallen again. I'm very familiar with this place and feeling in my life. And I don't like being here. It feels good in the moment, but in the many moments after, it feels awful. I knowingly make bad choices, which I know aren't right for me or where I want to be in my life...and yet, I continue right on. Marching to a beat that is all too similar to places I have only recently left. Where is it that I am being called to? I joke that I would love a literal sign from God...but really, I would love a literal sign from God. I feel a call...to something. I just don't know what. To people. To love. Therefore, I suppose, to love people. But in what regard? Of the few things I know about myself for certain, I know that I love people, that I have compassion and a heart for their stories and backgrounds and differences. I love to learn. And read. And be creative. Where all those roads meet, I am unsure.
Also, I recently got bangs. I'm also not sure how I feel about those.