i thought growing up would hurt less
no one told me the pain is never ending…
A month ago, while browsing Pinterest, I came across a list titled “Rules for being human handed down from ancient Sanskrit.” The eighth rule on the list was “What you make of your life is up to you.” A little thought crept into my mind after reading that: “What if I’m not destined for more?” What if I had peaked at 17 and got no highlight reel, and now I’m done for good? What if this is what I had made of my life? Something not so brilliant.
This sudden worry about being mediocre hit me like a brick, and I’ve spent so much time desperately convincing myself that I have that star potential at something, anything. I don’t want to be mere stardust as people strut down the street glowing hot, scorching those around them, because they’ve had the privilege to shine.
The desperation I feel can only be described by that scene in Ladybird (2017) when Ladybird gets mad she got into a state school an hour away because it’s not enough, they’re not her dreams. That awkward expectancy is what I feel as I look in the mirror and ask myself: “Am I a mediocre girl?”
As I near the end of a chapter of my life, preparing for a new one I’ve concluded that I’m a dumbass with big dreams and little motivation.
I don’t know what defines “making it,” and something in me worries that I’ll never do. I can’t understand the long life stretching before me. I can’t understand why I’m not where others want me to be. Everything I’ve always done has been at the lower end of the success spectrum. I’m pleased but never elated.
I’m philosophical because of the pains of growing, impending adulthood, and the realization that some are better than I, even on their worst days. I don’t understand the point of growing up and moving into adulthood. I’m in constant discomfort. If you couldn’t tell, dear reader (and welcome if you’re new), everything I post has an energy of confusion and unrest.
I thought the pains of growing up were limited to period cramps, the sudden aching of growing bones, or the soreness of developing breasts. I’ve learned to manage all of these pains. I thought growing up would mean getting used to several physical symptoms. I didn’t know growing up came with such discomfort and uncertainty.
My mind is constantly running from worrying about my future to whether you need to put the egg before or after the water starts to boil. It’s funny—I can tell I’m barely starting, but something tells me I have already fallen behind.
I don’t need someone else to tell me I’ve succeeded. Because even if I know I’m good, there’s still so much to worry about, so much to figure out. I always thought if I micromanaged it all, then the pains would end, I’d work around them. But my life hasn’t gone according to my strictly planned, cookie-cutter aspirations, and now I’m starting to realize that maybe growing up is that abyss.
I wish someone had told me more about being sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, and nineteen. I’m mad that no one has told me this is how it goes. The first few period cramps, those spasmic aches that shock your body, so foreign until you get used to them, are only the beginning of growing up, of change, of the discomfort.
Maybe, similar to learning not to wear white pants while on my period, I’ll learn to deal with the aching of my heart the more I face the world. Maybe I’m not mediocre, just freshly nineteen. I learn as I grow, I grow as I ache.
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I think the same way we say, 'You weren't evil, you were just 13,' we can apply that with feeling behind and incapable of making it whatever the hell that means. Maybe we just need to get used to this process of growing up and not just growing taller or bigger but actually having life grow with us. More responsibilities and things we're meant to know. Or maybe I'm saying this because I feel the same way and I'm scared lol. Great piece <3