Grounded

For a long time now, I have felt like I've been spinning my wheels.

In high school, I liked writing stories. I liked reading novels, and thinking critically about them, and gaining understanding about issues larger than the sum of words on a page. So I decided to go to university to study English.

In university, I liked the discussions and new concepts I was learning. I liked discovering uncomfortable ideas, and suspending my preconceptions to try them on for a while. I liked challenging myself as a writer, and having my work critiqued by my peers (although that was always scary). I liked critiquing my peers' work, and seeing them grow, and feeling like I had a little part in that.

But there were bigger things going on in my life. I found shedding my preconceptions to try on new ideas to be both liberating and terrifying, because sometimes these new ideas fit better on me than the old ones, and sometimes the two weren't compatible. I lived off student loans, and indulged often because it was my first time living without rules. I drank alcohol, and smoked pot, and liked both. I hated going to class, because it meant getting up earlier than I wanted, and it was often boring. I grew to dislike reading, because it stopped being about the journey of the story and became about finishing X amount of pages in Y amount of time. I gave depression a name, and saw its affect on my friends' lives. It became a close friend itself.

My three years spent at university were a time of intense growth, and were understandably filled with many growing pains. But I'd never give up that period for anything. I forged friendships with people I now consider to be family. I know myself better now than I did before, because even if that sense of self feels more tenuous, I can ask myself questions and wait to find out what my answers truly are (and I know that those answers won't be true forever, and that's okay). I don't make the same assumptions I once did, and I see a world that is far greater than I can ever know, and I'm becoming more comfortable with the fact that I'll never have the answers to some questions. I know now that I am a work in progress. For me, that was worth the $30,000 in student loans.

When I left university, I thought leaving that arena would mean a more settled self, and I would gain clarity of purpose. I thought that leaving the crucible would tame the fire, and it did to a degree, and now I'm glad it hasn't abated entirely. Unfortunately, it's meant that I've felt like I've been on a path of discovery for a long time, and it's a tiring process.

So I worked at a flower shop, and I liked what I did, but I didn't feel challenged and I hated the drama of my coworkers, and of the career in general. I wasn't engaging that critical side of myself. So I moved on.

I got a job as a receptionist, where I commuted into the city every day and got a real paycheck that would start to make a more significant dent in my debts. I wasn't challenged by the position, but I was engaging with smart people daily, and I was organized, and I felt like a grown up.

They liked me so much they promoted me. I was now a writer at an ad firm, and I still am. It's a title that makes people at parties 'oooh' when I tell them, because Mad Men is popular, and my job seems glamourous. It is not. I am now Climbing The Ladder.

I moved out my parents' house in the suburbs, and into a shared apartment downtown. I broke up with my boyfriend and got much happier, and my social life started to fall into place, and I had more free time and I tried new kinds of food. But I wasn't, and still am not, fulfilled, because I am still trying to find the outlets for what is inside, begging to be free, and the courage to see those things through.

So I'm going to start writing about how I am trying to find that fulfillment. Because I have been searching for it for what feels like a long time. I went to university because I wanted to fulfill my critical side, and now reflection has filled that void. With friends, I reflect on the nature of the world, on the connections between disparate things, on our love lives and dreams and anxieties, and I feel like I might have a little influence in how they view their world, and I like that. Because they've had an influence on mine, and the world has given me so much and I appreciate that, and I want to give back.

So I will start to, in my own navel-gazing way. And maybe, this will give me the push I need to get out of the mud.