I think I haven’t written these past few months because I began to realize how little I know.
Looking back at these posts, month after month I’ve written about something I thought I understood in that moment. And I’ve learned, oh how I’ve learned through that process. But in these days, I am discovering that times change. Thoughts change. Opinions change. Life moves and flows and we are constantly in a state of flux. I don’t have the answers I thought I once had. And I don’t always feel peace about that. But I feel like I don’t have to have answers — that life is beautiful and will be beautiful even when I never figure out all the things I want to figure out. Or fix all the things I want to fix about my life.
I haven’t written because I’ve become exhausted with fixing. With repairing. With trying to make something new out of myself every day. With striving. And with disappointment that always comes…inevitably cold and hard. Even after I think I’ve succeeded.
Many days I feel raw. I feel like a little girl who’s skinned both her knees in front of all her friends at a birthday party. Her face is flushing and her eyes and throat are trying so hard not to cry in front of everybody. I feel like that little girl who felt confident before that fall and now feels embarrassed and vulnerable and human again.
Maybe I’m strange. Maybe it’s odd to be able to feel scared and incredibly loved and human and overwhelmed at the same time. Maybe it’s normal and maybe I’m just becoming an adult somehow through all of this. All I know right now is that I have questions. And I have some really, really good answers to those questions. But I’m not always sure they’re the right answers. Or if there are right answers.
My conclusion is this: I am slowly learning what it is to be human.
Society paints us pictures of what that’s supposed to mean and I know I’ve been human from the moment I was conceived in my mother’s womb. I know I was human when I took my first breath and had my first kiss and fell in love and then fell in love for real. I know I was human when I kissed boys who didn’t know my middle name or when I screamed at my brother or when I talked about my best friend behind her back in middle school.
But somehow, along the way, I forgot I was human in the moments when I thought I was better than someone else. In the moments when I thought I had it all together. In the moments when I got better grades or had better hair or played better music or wrote better words. But I was wrong. I wasn't better. I just began to view myself as a better form of human and I got high off that thought.
But today is today. And today I am learning what it means to be human. Again, or maybe really for the first time. I am learning to be real with myself. That I am and will be flawed. In my best and worst moments I am flawed. In this life I will always be flawed. To be human is to be flawed. But oh how beautiful to be flawed and loved at the same time. I think I would pick that over being perfect and loved.
Because real love loves in spite of imperfections.
If I know one thing today,
forgetting all the other things
I thought I knew -
It is beautifully raw to be human
because we get the chance
to be loved
and to call it beautiful.