When I first thought about having the chance to blog again, I was dumbfounded. There are so many people who have better things to talk about than I would. There’s nothing special about me or my experiences. It was a thought that plagued me as I tried to consider what angle I could take to talk about my own life that would help add to the conversation.
In the end, the realization that whatever I had experienced was not something that made me unique set in. After all, there are over six billion people in the world now and it’s unthinkable that no one feels the same way that I would about certain things.
Last year was a world wind of job changes and new opportunities. It was a year where I felt I had been able to stand myself up only to trip myself on the same hurdles that I always faced to come tumbling down to the ground. For every chance of growth that I thought I had, there was an equal amount of decay and world weariness.
I’ve heard a lot of talk about my generation and the one right after me as the lost generation, the generation that doesn’t know what to do with itself and how to handle the privileges that its been given.
On the surface at least, that may be true. It’s looking out from the eyes of someone who feels like they’ve gone through more dangerous times than we have, as if the advent of technology has done anything but made our world run faster. For every argument, there is a counter argument.
I wanted to have this first post back in my blog be something inspiring and meaningful. I wanted it to be something that I could look back on later in my life and smile at, but there’s little chance of that right now. I feel a bit like I’m someone looking out at a terrifying new world and being told that I have to live in it heedless of how ready I am to do so, but it’s if nothing else, it’s kind of exciting as well.
I may not be unique, but at least I’m not alone.
In the moment, it feels like I’m running in place, but when I look back at what’s behind me I know that can’t be the place. I’m a far cry from the quiet, bookworm child or the distraught and destructive teenager. Even looking back at who I was in University, the changes are easy enough to see and yet at the same time I don’t feel like I’ve changed at all. The changes seem to come in doors that have closed around me.
Some I’ve closed myself, others were closed by people on the other side, and it’s time to stop looking at the doors to wonder what could have been if things had been different. I can walk past them and find new doors to open, new rooms to explore.
I used to crumble when I lost something, but if nothing else, that is slowly changing thanks to patient friends and healthier surroundings.
There are other changes on the way too. The first one? Writing more in this damn blog. Only four entries in the past year is a travesty.