So back in September I mentioned to my friend Esther that I had been reading her blog (which she had recently started at the time) and that it made me want to write. Esther, being the wonderfully encouraging soul that she is, convinced me to do just that. I thought it sounded like a pretty good idea because I swear I think about things waaaaay too much and all those thoughts swim around in my mind and mix with insecurity and self-doubt until I feel like I’m drowning in my own personal whatever. So I thought that maybe if I could write down some of the thoughts it would be easier to sort through them and process things.
That, I think, is all very reasonable. What’s NOT very reasonable, however, is that I didn’t actually create said blog until now, over four months later. There are a few reasons that this has happened. One is that life has kind of kicked my butt the last few months and I haven’t had it in me to do much of anything. Another is that it’s taken me awhile to convince myself that I am a person whose thoughts are worth reading, or even worth writing down at all. Another less-serious-but-equally-important-and-much-more-embarrassing reason is that I couldn’t think of a name for my blog.
The inability to come with a title has been my biggest excuse for not doing this sooner. Every time I decided that I would try and that I didn’t actually care if no one ever read what I wrote, I would stop and think “but what will I call it?” and that put everything on hold.
I used to have a blog called “last-thread.” It was a blog I started to sort things out: my last hope to pull myself out of a fog that started in high school and lasted through most of college.
But it was like all the diaries I started as a kid: it was a habit for awhile but eventually I moved on to something else. Even when I stopped using last-thread it wasn’t actually the last anything. The world kept spinning and my life kept going and since that blog had stopped being my means of getting it all out I had to find a new outlet. Eventually, I think that’ll happen here, too. Not for awhile, probably, but eventually. With that in mind, I didn’t want anything about this blog to imply finality, or that this is my last chance at anything because I know that it’s not.
I came across this quote on tumblr today, and I think it’s exactly what I was looking for. I’m not looking for someone or something to save me; I just want to find a way to to feel okay when things aren’t perfect. Things aren’t perfect now; most days they’re barely “good,” and I’ve spent too much time fighting to keep my head above water, and even more time wondering if it even matters whether or not I let the current take me. That kind of thinking hasn’t proven to be very conducive to living a happy life, so clearly I need something different.
So, yeah. I’ll end my
somewhat self-important first post with the quote in question. It’s about leaving—or rather, being left—but I especially like the idea that growing up means that someday you accept that you can’t control everything. Things will change, people will leave, the world will fall apart over and over again, and it’s okay.
Then you grow up and realize that sometimes, no one is to blame when things fall apart.
“You know, when I was younger and people walked away, I would always blame them. And if I couldn’t blame them, I would blame myself.
I would tell myself that it was my fault for not being enough for them.”
“You grew up,” you said.
“I did. I grew up and I realize that it’s no one’s wrong doing when they choose to walk away. In life, you get that choice of staying or leaving. You can’t help it if you want to leave and you can’t stay somewhere if you’re always trying to pry the door opened. Eventually, you’ll find a way out; whether you break the window or smash the door, if you want to run, you will be gone.
I stopped getting angry at the world when it fell apart. It’s out of anyone’s control. Things change; people come and people go. And you can’t hold that against them.”
To Grasp the Concept of Leaving // Ming D Liu