Live by the Sun

You know that popular trend where users show a photo of themselves from their childhood with the context of “I’m doing this for her” or “remember, this is who you’re criticizing”? I get a little teary eyed when I see those posts. In fact, I am right now, just thinking about it. Just the other day I had the thought that I’m currently the same age distance from 13 as I was at that age from the time I was born.

With all this in mind, I was also thinking of the person I thought I would be now at 27, at the age of 13. Would I be happy? Would I be comfortable in my skin? Did I figure out what I want to be when I grow up? Did I find a nice boy who likes me back? And is it Harry Styles?

All jokes aside, I can’t quite remember what I thought my life would be like now when I was 13. It was 2012 and I was in the 8th grade. This was the year hurricane Sandy flooded my childhood home. Hoisting my belongings up on the top shelf of my closet and piling nonsense on top of my vaulted bed, in hopes the flood water didn’t reach that high. We lived with Grandma and Pop Pop that whole year in the next town over while our house was under repair. Hushed tones from my parents trying to figure out what they were to do while I wondered why my favorite lime green skinny jeans from Delia’s didn’t fit me right anymore. My bubble burst that year. It was then that I first realized that there will be big things that happen in my life that I can’t necessarily control.

You spend your early years pondering those aforementioned tween questions, while following the routine set by school, sports, and part time jobs. College was the first real choice that felt like “mine” but still had the guardrails of a routine, and the safety of knowing it made sense to see through to receive my degree. After this was complete, I found myself falling back into the comfort of following what those I love strove towards, figuring out how to delicately place myself into their timelines and routines.

My teenage self was eager to be the helpful, bright, supportive light my parents needed. Post-college me was and still is eager to carry this torch from my parent’s timeline, to my fiancé’s timeline. I truly love the comfort of going along with the decisions those I love make, but feel like my sense of self is smudged. Don’t get me wrong, I am so grateful to be safe, loved, and at peace, but I’ve always felt like something was missing. Today I did something about it. Today I make a big step in the right direction to notch my own timeline.

I could have spend the afternoon lifting my thumb to signal the “Next Episode” of Gilmore Girls, but I finally dragged my butt here, remembering that I have the free will to do anything to my hearts content. So here we are, at the origin of my blog. This blog is for 27 year old me, and for 13 year old me, and for every version of me I carry. Where she leads, I will follow, anywhere that she tells me to…