To Life, To Love, To the Strength of my Soul

For the past couple of days I've had moments where I have found myself stuck in thoughts and worries about other peoples lives and problems. Not really other people so much as my family, never the less I've had to take a step back, take a few deep breaths and remind myself that they aren't my issues. I won't go into who or what I've been focused on because along with it not being my concern it's also not my place to discuss. However it makes me think of a quote I once read:

It is both a blessing
And a curse
To feel everything
So very deeply

I think that I am not the first or last one in my family to be in this predicament. I can think of at least three cousins and two aunts with the same ailment. Ever since I was little I fear I have felt too much. Taken things too harshly. Soaked in every worry, every experience, every failure, every fear, every joy, every everything and marinated on it. In doing so it has made me more open to others leaning on me, counting on me, being disappointed in me, leaving me disappointed in myself. I've often felt this pressure to reach out, to speak up, to fight a fight that isn't my own, not only for family, but for friends, for strangers, always stuck worrying. Always left feeling as though the burden were upon my own shoulders. Left wondering why? Why I've felt responsible for others happiness. Why I love with all passion and conviction without any hesitation to ponder on the consequences of unwanted advice. The unwarranted anger and backlash from those I'm trying to help. I hear many things from many different sources and I somehow feel that I have to help those sources interconnect. Feeling as though somehow my tiny voice will help. Maybe one time someone will listen. Maybe this time someone will take my advice. Maybe this person will see that my concern isn't judgement. That it is only my heart pouring out trying to make the people happy, their loved ones happy, myself happy.

For as far back as I can think in my own life I have felt constricted. As though there is a vice grip on my heart. Sometimes it steals my breath, sometimes it fills my lungs, sometimes it pours forward with all the force of a tidal wave. There are times when I am happy, blissfully happy and all I feel is joy. However those times are far less prevalent compared to the ones where it feels as though the world is weighing down upon my chest. I wonder if I would feel this way if things in my life had gone the way I imagined they would...But even as I wonder that, even with all the pain I've felt, all the rejection, the self contempt, the thoughts of worthlessness, the hatred of others, occasionally of myself, I can't help but think it was all worth it somehow. That maybe somewhere down the road it will all prove to have been working towards something. That all the mistakes and heartbreaks were good things. That all the hopelessness, sorrow and fear were leading me towards the things I was meant to do or have or be. That one day someone will need the advice or the help I try to provide. That it will truly help someone. That my life will prove to have a purpose, even if I can't see it currently. I can only hope for this to be true, however in the mean time I have to reign myself in and remember that I shouldn't worry about things. Not the things that don't concern me, not even the things that do. Worrying leads to nothing but stress and depression. Thoughts and feelings that have more of a negative effect on my mind and my life then I realize. I need to take a deep breath, take a step back and have the faith to believe that everything will indeed work out for the better. Whether I have a hand in it or not.    

The Point of Realization, which can also be referred to as The Freakout

So a couple of weeks ago I had a breakdown...okay in all honesty it was more of a total meltdown. My boyfriend and I were lazying about and he made an off hand comment about my birthday this year. I will be turning 28 in June. Twenty-eight. Out of no where and seemingly all at once I was pelted with so many feelings that I was unable to do anything but curl into the fetal position and cry my eyes out like a new born. Which of course freaked the hell out of my very patient and loving boyfriend who always hates to see me hurting. But it had not dawned on me until that very moment,  stealing away my breath and my wits, this year I will be two years to thirty.

Now I know a lot of you out there are probably thinking, Why is that an issue? Stop overreacting, its just a number. But perhaps there are a few of you who might be in the same position as I am or at least understand where I'm coming from. Let me begin by saying all my life all I have ever dreamed of becoming was a wife, a mother, and a keeper of my house. I know, how very 50's housewife of me. Regardless that has always been the end note. I had some odd notion that I would have it all figured out by 25. My life, my career. That I would have found the one and started my very own family. But 25 came and went, as did 26 and soon 27 will be gone as well. With social media being what it is today it is all to easy to see which of my peers are already married, or with children, or holding their dream job. Who is traveling, or owning their own homes, who is happy...or at least seemingly happy.

And isn't that the issue. 

In this day and age it's far too simple to compare yourself with those around you and find yourself, or your life lacking. Its not hard to feel less then in this world of people posting every blissful moment of their lives. Where everyone out in the world seems so much more put together then yourself. It is far too effortless to find yourself sliding into a dark pit of depression. That is the moment I found myself in during my meltdown. My life, at that moment, unemployed, living at home, with not many friends and a rather inactive social life seemed like a total letdown. Like my life at that moment just seemed disappointing. 

After quite some time swimming in that pit, my head was throbbing, my eyes were red. I had stopped shaking, looked over at my boyfriend and apologized for my meltdown. He told me that it was unnecessary, that he wished he could change things for me and make me happier, which he does effortlessly on a usual basis. He reminded me of everything in life that I have going for me. He told me jokes and made me laugh. And I realized, maybe the road to thirty isn't going to be as horrible as I fear it will be. So here I am, two years to thirty, and my plan is to write this until I hit that birthday. Positive moments, negative moments and everything in between.