Second semester of my senior year in college is three weeks in and Im beginning to feel ready for my life.
Beginning to.
Between online Korean lessons and TEFL certification, my actual classes, and RA duties my time has filled up in the blink of an eye. What felt like an easier semester has quickly become just as busy as any other semester in college; filled to the brim with things to do and not enough time to sleep. But, I almost prefer it this way.
Please, dont misunderstand this post as a cry for compliments. I am just trying to be honest and convey feelings that I have right at this moment.
'I think I'm ugly and nobody wants to love. Just like her I want to be pretty."
While wandering around the internet aimlessly like I usually do when Im procrastinating my french homework, I came across a song that really hit a chord within me.
This summer something inside of me snapped- I was tired of feeling like my weight was out of my control. In the time of two months I managed to lose over 40 pounds, dropping 4 dress sizes, and do it in a completely healthy manner. Im now much smaller than my summer self, but my self confidence hasn't improved a whole lot.
I think I am awesome. I know I am awesome. I know Im awesome because Im smart, because Im empathetic and kind. I try my best to be optimistic. My beauty, I have always felt, has been on the inside. A secret beauty that you have to get to know, overcome my shy nature and slowly notice as I open up. These are all the qualities that I think make me a wonderful, beautiful, person. Physical beauty has never been where I think I am pretty.
Growing up, I desperately wanted to be pretty. My younger sister, a size super small for most of my high school life, flaunted her beauty. She could always wear cute clothes, always get the attention of the people she desired. She threw my ugliness in my face whenever we would fight, more than once commenting on my 'flat, fat nose' and weight. "I'm not fat like Mallory". I dont know how many times I heard that. In my high school theatre department I was ridiculed for my weight struggles behind my back, hearing names hurled at me from cowards who would never say things to my face. Even my mom, with the best of intentions, would say 'tummy' to me, all the time, when she thought my gut was too visible. She put me on diets from the time I entered middle school, only making my own weight problems more painful. I know she didnt mean to, she was trying to help. But I knew my struggles with food were evident in every picture, every yearbook, every casting call. I knew I was fat. But fat people are human too.
Over the weekend I participated in an epic scavenger hunt/tag game with a club Im involved in. Some of the challenges we had to do required that girls be picked up or people lifted in some way. I was mortified. I dont like to be touched (another side effect, I suspect, of being tormented over weight my whole life). I didnt know many of the boys on my team and I definitely did not want to be picked up, opening myself up to the never ending 'fat' comments my low body image is certain will follow.
When I walk in a room- I still feel like the ugliest person in the room. No exceptions. It's something Im trying to overcome, everyday. But it's not that easy to change the way you think about yourself in a few months- not when you have been reminded every day previously of how unappealing you are.
But Im trying.
Thursday, October 25, 2012
I graduate in a little over 7 months, and the closer that day seems to get to me, the more I asked one question;
What are you going to do with your life?
At first this question baffled me. What do you mean? I want to do many things with my life; I want to be a friend, a lover, a worker, a writer; I want travel and experience adventure and danger; I want to jump out of airplanes and dive into water; I want to work hard; I want to read books- so many books; I want to do so much.
But none of these wants for my life are the answer anyone who asks the question is looking for. I suppose I give this answer because Im not sure. I only know this:
I want my life to mean something.
The more I think about my future, the more I realize, that I want my life to mean something to people- not just myself. I want to do a little bit of good, change a little bit of this world we live in for the better. I want to live Ubuntu and help others.
But, Im just a kid facing graduation- Im not sure how to impact anyone, Im not sure I know how to get where I want, especially since my destination is so vague. I sometimes feel that I am equal parts running towards a goal and running away from my past.
This weekend I did some long needed laundry and while I was folding my fresh-from-the-dryer clothes, I decided to put on my new pair of high heels (warm brown stilettos, about 3.5 inches tall. I love them). And that was how I spent my evening- folding laundry in my high heels with Alice in Wonderland playing in the background. This got me thinking about my life- naturally.
I'm growing up. Despite my best efforts to ask time to please slow down, despite my patient emails and letters sent to time and even my fits when I become so furious with time that I throw my hands up in exasperation, and curse the very name- time simply ignores me and continues its merciless march forward, never pausing for breath. I'm growing up.
I'm growing up quickly. I make my own money, do my own laundry, cook my own food, pay my own bills, and make my own choices about the future I want to have.
I may be growing up, but this weekend while I was putting my laundry away, I was still playing dress up. Sure, the heels and make-up are my own now, but I still walk around in my pajamas, wearing high-heels while watching animated movies. I still fall asleep to my childhood lull-a-bye VHS after a bad day; I still snuggle Chickie when I can't sleep; I still dance like a goofball and I still walk into things and fall down a lot.
I'm growing up, but in many ways, I'm not.
I hope that some of those things never change. I hope that I continue to grow into adulthood, but do so while maintaining some of my child-like qualities.
The grueling two week RA training period is coming to a close... which can only mean that the inevitable passage of time is continuing it's merciless march forward into the senior year of my undergraduate education. Im torn- Im relieved that RA training is over- 12 hours a day with people for nearly a solid week is tough for me- I become quiet and withdrawn after only a few hours- seeking the solitude I crave- and these are the moments when my bosses are expecting me to come forward and lead, to present my ideas, and to be a voice. RA training is decidedly not designed for introverts. It is a relief to have that finished.
Ra training had its fun moment- my staff is a delight. I feel more comfortable with most members of my staff than I usually do around people. I even find some members taking the time to peel back my tough layers- patiently waiting and strategically prying at me to get me to open up. I am thankful for that- so few people really see- I am glad that someone is taking the time to see me. Sometimes this openness is impossible to hide. Today in the social justice portion of training we did a 'priveledge walk'. I found myself almost at the very front- my past of family, financial and personal struggle there for anyone to see. I felt exposed, I felt helpless, I felt the way I felt when every negative thing happened in my life. I felt shame.
But when the shame passed I felt power. Yes, my life has been hard- I've had to overcome a lot to be where I am. But I made it.
That being said, the only thing that is standing between me and what promises to be a stressful semester is a hoard of freshmen moving in on friday. I feel like I am a citizen of Gondor, preparing for the armies of Sauron to break down the walls of the White City. It's a bit dramatic, but the visual is right.
Im nervous for this semester. Im nervous about getting into graduate school or going to Korea to teach english. Im worried that I will have to compromise my future because of my past.
But I can do it.
I have to.
I love my country- I really do. I am incredibly fortunate to have been born in a country that has flourished and changed in the ways that America has. Had I, as a little handed girl, been born in many countries around the world, I would have probably been discarded and left to die. But I was born here- in America, so I have been able to flourish- to go to school even though I, by all accounts, cannot afford to. I have been allowed to vote, and even if our political process is messed up and convoluted, I am allowed to participate in some small way.
That being said, the 4th of July has always had some mixed feelings for me. I think that the world we live in today has too many lines; too many divisions. Part of this is the mindless jingoism that national pride promotes and enables. The things that make America great are wonderful- but this country has some serious problems as well- and stuffing yourself silly at a cookout while you get plastered doesn't help anything. In fact, I would argue that the behavior that is promoted on the fourth of July is part of the problem.
If all the people who got wasted on the fourth of July would vote (and be informed when they vote) perhaps I could get behind the birthday celebrations of my country- but alas, that is not the case. Instead we promote mindless jingoism. Instead we drunk in our star-spankled bikinis and declare that 'America is the best'. The truth is, we aren't the best anymore. Our education system is falling apart, jobs are leaving this country, corporations rule the land, some of the highest mortality rates in the developed world are right here, and the rich get richer while the poor seep more desperately into poverty. How are we the best? We are free you say? Are we really? And even if we are (which I have my doubts) many countries around the globe enjoy the same freedoms we do.
So I ask again, in what way are we the best?
The world would be better off without that kind of celebration, don't you think?
The building in which I work is currently empty, save a few other RA's and residents who are busy working or sleeping. The lull between the sessions has sent most of the residents home- some for good, not to return until the fall semester begins. That leaves me with a very empty building.
Sure, I have used my time in the building to catch up on sleep and even study for the GRE. I'm almost done with a fantastic book (The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle by Haruki Murakami) and I've had dance parties in my room every night to make up for the fact that the pool is closed and my body needs the movement I usually get at the pool. The pool also makes up a kind of meditation for me. The constant rush of the water, the regulated breathing and the lack of thought as I push and pull myself through the water is relaxing and solitary; plus I get to be in the water, one of my favorite places in the world. And so, since the Rec Center has closed for the week, I have supplemented the dance parties with a thirty minute meditation, just clearing my mind and center my soul.
But, despite all the things I am doing to fill my time, to keep my idle hands from reaching for potato chips or oreos, I find myself retreating inside my own mind. I find myself imagining futures and obsessing over things that may never happen, that probably can never happen. And it's not only the future I find myself ruminating on; its all kinds of things. The beauty of nature, the annoyance of work, the dread I feel when I think of any number of topics that fill me with anxiety- all subject to the extreme introversion I find myself in. And then there are the ultimate thoughts- who am I? Not just my favorite foods, my favorite books, my friends, but on some deeper level. Am I made up of all those other things or is there something more? Is there something outside of those things, my experiences and my collections of thoughts? Am I different in any way?
Probably not.
I blame this particular line of inquiry on The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle. Magical surrealism always makes my head spin.
But you should still read it.
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