I've been a prolific journaler [
shh.. I know] for as long as I can remember; my mom has often shared with me the many manuscripts arranging my many legitimate struggles...
... at like, age
five. What can I say? Life was pretty rough, when
"... I and can't have and the and turkoys [turquoise] doll and because Santa got and me the purple one and for Christmas."
My love of conjunctions started early on, an indication of my aptitude development.
Anyway, I read yesterday
THIS, authored by none other than my fellow star-chaser Marianne. She raised several interesting points just by penning this thing to her future self, something I coincidentally
also did in 2004. I committed last night to unearthing some of those words, penned inevitably during a phase of angsty, pre-twenties self-discovery. And loathing. And soul-searching. And so on... and so on.
 |
| ohhhhhhh, the aaaaaangst.... |
Uh-huh. :|
So here's what I did: I went and in fact unearthed that duct tape-covered composition book [complete with some tattooed Dashboard Confessional lyrics, for
effect #emoproblems...], which contained everything from my grocery lists [?], to random and elicited observations re: my little world of college things, and stickers, tickets & other miscellaneous swag from all the cutting-edge things/places I was going. In hindsight, I was just collecting for some imaginary scrapbook that materialized in the form of a misshapen novel.. with bumper stickers.
Folks, I naturally preferred hard-copy over e-filing in 2004, and from the looks of this, I was holed up in a corner of the 13th floor [the
'Quiet Floor' reserved for the most studious dormers, for those of you who remember Calhoun Hall]. Secluded in the vacant, dimly-lit corner of a study hall, silent but in that very way,
so. EMOTIONALLY CHAOTIC... If that doesn't
paint the angst for you, well..... idk.
So here's an excerpt from 2004. I wasn't much of an Headline gal in the early 2000's, so there was no other title to this other than the date:
March 10, 2004
[a Wednesday]
I swear to God I will NOT be here in 10 years. There's no way in hell that I'll feel like this in 10 years. There's no way in hell that this shit will still be getting the best of me in 10 years. I mean it.
[Okay, as a prelude to this: 2004 was my sophomore year of college, and a/the point of my life where I, for lack of better explanation, abandoned a
lot of what I stood for, including {apparently} my manners, class, faith, dignity and a bunch of other relatively essential qualities. Just an FYI; carry on....]
I made a list of New Year's Resolutions 2 months ago and haven't kept more than 2 of them. HELL YEAH! Great start, right? I thought I would be advantageous this year and reinvent the wheel, but who am I kidding? I can't even find common ground with half the people around me.
I wonder a LOT about where I'll be in 10 years. If I'll be in this city. This state. This country. If I'll still have the same friends. At this rate, I almost HOPE I don't. That's sad. I need people who I can relate to, for REAL reasons. Not because we're both Filipino. Or because we're in the same classes all morning for 3 days a week. Or because we both play soccer. Or because we live in the same dorm. Or because we're both eating food at the same place at the same time. THESE are why I'm friends with over half of my friends... and THAT sucks. I miss my REAL friends [from my hometown; remember I'm only a year into this whole living-away-from-home thing
] and know that I'm just going through the motions here. God I'm lame.
I'm dating a guy who's clingy, not supportive and stupidly obsessed with his hair. Call me shallow, but if you can't get your shit together for the day JUST because your hair isn't cooperating? Grow a pair. He has an intellectual brain though, and for some reason I can't seem to part with it. I just wish he was more..... I dunno, grounded.
I flopped on the new year's resolutions, so I wonder if by the time I'm almost 30 in ten years, maybe I'll get it together?
Goals: 10 years out [in no particular order]:
* Graduate college
* Get a job. A real job.
* Visit another country. Maybe 2.
* Find real friends. Or stay socially-removed until I'm ready to figure out what that means.
* STOP letting people down.
* Get a tattoo.
* Think about marriage when dating. Not immediately, but if he even has potential. Otherwise don't waste your time.
* Get home more often.
* Repair broken relationships.
* Run more. Remember how soccer was the highlight of your life now... do NOT let it control your life in 10 years.
* Live somewhere other than Cincinnati. Or even Ohio.
* Stop procrastinating on EVERYthing you do. And when you decide TO do something, don't push yourself so hard that you exhaust everything you have: time, social life, money, ambitions.
* Remember how you felt TODAY: Confused about what you actually want out of life. Broken because you've relied on yourself and not on God for the things you need, even though you know better. You're lonely, confused, hurt and broken by the damage of bad friendships and superficial relationships. You're not excited to see what the future holds - honestly, you're afraid of it and that's not what should be happening. You don't EVER want to be in this place, ever again.
Get a hold of yokurself, Corin. You're better than this.
*******
I condensed that down from the near 4 comp pages it consumed when I originally wrote it, but in reading it, the feelings came back. The intensity of that moment feels vague now, but not the sense of confusion and helplessness. The dark place they usher in was a place I revisited just a few short years back, and I found my way out then, too, but with a strength I didn't know I even had.
I've thought it appropriate for a while now to extend some sort of homage to my former self, and in the process perhaps a couple of notes for the future me. Thanks again for the inspiration, Mare!
To Corin, 2004:
First things first, it gets better. It gets bad again here and there, but the beauty outweighs the pain tenfold. You finished college, and you have that job that you truly love. You have a small but irreplaceable network of true friends on whom you can rely when you're doing well
and when you aren't. Out of an incredibly un-ideal situation came the most beautiful child you've ever known; she is a reflection of the love you want to show the world, and continues to impress you every day. She calls you mama and there's not a moment of the struggle you would trade to have her changing your world every day. You have two tattoos, one of which you got on a random outing with the girl who inspired this time-traveling letter. You've lived in a couple different states, been to a couple other countries and are on the home stretch of preparation for a missions trip to Panama. You're engaged to a guy who makes you crazy, but in the ways you laugh about, not the ones on which a relationship actually hinges. He brought you out of a place void of emotions altogether, let alone happiness. He is patient, funny and supportive of your dreams, goals and ambitions. You are
still flighty when it comes to certain grown-up things: taxes, health insurance, financial portfolios. < You will probably never fully comprehend the logistics of those things, but you're doing better. You've learned to finally start speaking up when you're dissatisfied with something, instead of bottling it to the point of combustion like you did for the first 25ish years. You're no expert, but you're getting better. You still procrastinate on small things, and when you invest yourself wholly into something, you still haven't mastered the art of pacing yourself. You're damaged, imperfect and a constant work in progress, but know this: You are
happy. You are
growing. You are
loved.
And Corin, 2025:
That was twenty years ago now that you took your duct taped journal and stowed away in the corner of a dormitory, ridden with confusion, loneliness and anxiety. It was thirteen years ago that you relapsed into that dark place, and vowed to never repeat it ever again. You lost parts of yourself that you won't ever get back, but in the process learned more about your limits, recognized your strengths and weaknesses, and acknowledged that you can't do this on your own - and that you don't need to. You don't need to prove that to anyone, regardless of what you always thought. You've redefined real strength as pursuing your faith and letting go of toxic things and people. That's important, so don't forget that, okay?
Your daughter is 15, which I can guess now has its own set of stresses and joyous moments alike. You're married to the man whose engagement ring you're wearing now in 2015, and continuing to grown and learn together with him just as you are now. I'm going to guess we've since added a few mini's to the family; I'm excited for us to look back on this moment now wondering what he, she or they will be like.
Twenty years ago, you were a hot mess, going through your emo
everything stage. You thought you could outsmart the system of life, but weren't smart enough to see the depths of your insecurities and inexperience. You fought back against wiser peers and council who tried to help you, because quite frankly, you weren't ready to face the reality that vulnerability isn't inherently evil.
Thirteen years ago, you fought tooth and nail for a failing marriage before you were able to level with the fact that the
only way your daughter had a fighting chance of life in a happy household, was to divide yours and pray that two separate but functional households would bloom out of its ashes.
You did that thing where you shut down emotionally, first to the world, then to those closest to you, and then to yourself. You were a drone for months, surviving on faith and desperate hopes that you were right. You struggled like most wouldn't believe with the guilt of divorce, wrestled with how that conflicted with your core beliefs and waited almost two years after your divorce to finally start forgiving yourself for the ways in which you failed and disappointed yourself and those involved. You became intentional about your time, and even more selective about who would be permitted to get close. You were scared of hurting them in the long run, but learned over time that that would only happen if YOU give permission and YOU choose to let little things turn into big things. You are slowly earning your bachelors degree in
Letting Things Go, and are making great strides in the section about harboring bitterness, resentment and pride.
In 2015, you're a work in progress. This is your first full year of your 30's, and you are
happy.
You still hate tomatoes and pickles, but have managed to eat bananas without wanting to vomit. You don't smoke, and as far as drinking goes, you officially have next to
zero tolerance, which isn't actually a bad thing. You don't work out as much as you should, but you're bent on reverting back to old habits in that regard, which include committing to a half marathon before the year is over. You are head over heels - often literally - with yoga, and have disproved every single one of your college-conceived notions of its principles. Your parents are visibly aging, but still as vivacious and fun as ever. Sydni is the light of their lives and she knows it. You're ready for the future, and are on the hunt for ways to ensure that it's a culmination of your investments
now. You wish you could still eat whatever you wanted, but your body isn't going to let that happen.
You're only an adult based on the time you've spent on the earth; your heart is still young. You are aware the heartache and disappointment are inevitable, but you are more secure with your abilities and limits in coping than ever before. You have an acute sense of detection for and equally sensitive disdain for the artificial - things, people and situations and are no longer hesitant to eliminate them from your life.
You're not the perfect human, and you will
never be perfect in the eyes of every beholder. But, here's one thing that you KNOW to be truth [& then some] as you walk into 2015:
 |
| #truth! |
Love your life at 40, because 30's lookin' like it's gonna be tough to beat.
xo |
cmd
It's a tough pill to swallow, and tastes a little like how I'd imagine a vinegar and brussel sprouts smoothie would taste, when I back down and ask for help. It's a PRIDE issue, that is ultimately a sin, being committed intentionally and defiantly by yours truly, when I refuse to accept help that is offered, for a task realistically too large for me to conquer alone.
