paper tissuethe chronicles of growing up continue...
i guess, you know you're growing up when you learn to accept yourself, as you are, at this very time, in the most up-to-date state of being, no matter the imperfections or shortcomings you may posess....
hold up...that sounds a lot like me when i was seven years old. peculiar. you see, when i was seven i accepted myself perfectly and completely. i looked in the mirror; looking good with my pink barrett.
check. slip on my velcro sleeping beauty sneakers purchased at payless.
check. did my addition and subtraction worksheets.
check. played tetherball at recess; rocked the court.
check. swung upside down on the monkey-bars.
check. ate grilled cheese and milk, calories...what?
check. played barbie dolls and fantasized about my ideal, flawless future.
ch-ch-check!
hm, okay. so i guess the question is: where, on this twisted and bumpy little adventure, did that get lost? was it stolen? did i drop it one day without noticing? did i leave it on that corner of 5th and main? or at that cute little bakery with the yummy brownies? i need to know. because one day...those 'check, check, checks' were replaced with a colorful array of brand labels, expensive hair colorings, 'oh no's', boy fiascos and the never-ending counting of calories. when is it exactly, please i'd love an answer dear universe....that the world got to me? i can't pin-point any specific date, or dreary morning when i arose so innocently, probably beginning like every other morning...but no. caution--something was different. because when i looked in the mirror i no longer cared a care just for me. but when i peered at that reflection across from me, a million voices and opinions and comparisons and yada yada yada, filled the room and began commanding me what to care about. saying things that are only worth a 'yada, yada'. not even worth my time to type.
years and years went by. my search for discovering the girl i was and wanted to be continued. fleeting memories told me that i could be so certain again, like at the age of seven. but it was hard. i won't lie, those years were exhausting. from trying to drop two sizes, to pretending that i didn't give a care what anyone thought...i tried it all. and then, as time passed my chronicles of growing up began.
it wasn't an overnight miracle. to this day, i haven't achieved the courage and confidence i ideally hope to. but there are a few things i know for certain.
different isn't bad. i've always been kind of different. of course, there have always been those that probably haven't liked that about me. and honestly, different took its toll. at times, it meant crying myself to sleep because i had no friends. or feeling out of place with all the other thirteen year old girls, because all they wanted to talk about was boys...when i'd rather be out on some adventure or climbing a tree or something. other days, it meant being perfectly content with sitting at my desk, writing words in my yellow notebook that probably didn't mean anything to anyone but myself, but it filled my world with meaning. embrace different. this my darling, is part of growing up.
love the freckles. imperfections are beauty. i think sometimes it's hard as human beings to look at at the clouds and see anything but white. but if we look hard enough...and really focus on what is out there. you'll see that, the clouds are not just white...but consist of specs of purple and green, and turquoise and yellow...it's made up of smaller particles that make it uniquely exquisite. like us. sure, i have a ribbon of freckles across my cheeks. and my eyes have splotches of yellow and green in their blueness. yes, i'm only 5'2''. and perhaps i could hit the gym up a whole lot more...okay, and i am in desperate need of a haircut...but that's okay. because it all makes up yours truly. and that is me.
don't stop knowing what you knew. when i was seven, i wanted to be an author. i wanted to write books for the majority of my childhoold. once jr. high hit, i wanted to be an author and an architect. however, i didn't enjoy mrs. jackson's art class all that much, so i decided i'd become a lawyer, then a journalist, then an editor...something would always bring me back to writing...oh how i loved it. i was captivated by the fact that with a pen and some paper, anyone could create anything their mind could wrap around. worlds. characters. storylines. adventures. history. imagination. it was inspiring to me. i knew that i could do whatever i wanted to do. granted, at the time i was pretty sure that every plan i was ever going to make would work out just as i mapped out. unfortunately for seven-year-old kristen, i know now that cementing in plans is probably not the best use of my time. however, i do know what i want. and i know that no matter what happened yesterday or last week, or in june...that i am still ready to fight for what i love. for my dreams. for those around me. for every plan that didn't follow my storyboard in my barbie dreamhouse.
i guess part of growing up is about slowly understanding yourself. the future is so bright. it's almost blinding. and the opportunities are endless. i dream of doing what i love. i dream of my career, just like i always have. i dream of making a difference. i dream of showing the world that i can kick a..., well you know. i dream of people and the experiences i will have. i dream of one day having my own family, my own kids to worry about and fuss over....and to be honest, i have no concrete plan to get there. but i will. maybe that is part of growing up too...
and yada, yada, yada.
