I should start by saying that I don’t consider myself to be a writer anymore. At least not a good one. I journal every morning, but it’s truly just a jumble of incomplete thoughts. It’s nonsense, and I like that it’s nonsense. But writing with the awareness that others may read it? That terrifies me. However, I had a friend recently tell me that I should start writing again. That it would help me figure out this weird phase of life I’m currently in. So this is me trying to listen to that friend’s advice. 

I’m sitting next to my grandmother (Mimi) while writing this. I got a text from my mom yesterday while I was at work that she had taken a turn for the worse. She was most likely going to die within the next day or two. After crying in front of my class of  26 sixth graders, I left work early and drove as fast as I could to Greenville, SC. I’ve just been sitting by her side since, holding her hand. Waiting. Waiting for her to take her last breath. Waiting to watch her go on to the life that comes next. We lost my Pa (my mom’s dad) back in early July, and I was by his side when he passed on. It was the most heartbreaking yet beautiful thing I have ever experienced. I did not anticipate losing my Mimi so close to him, but I know she is 88. She’s ready for a new adventure. I’m just grateful that I’ve gotten to be by her side during her last hours. To lay my eyes on her one more time. 

Being so close to death tends to make one think of life. My life is one that has continually been a mystery to me. Sometimes,  I feel like I have already lived 100 different lives, and I’m only 24 (almost 25).  I do not think I’m being dramatic when I say this either. Seriously – go ask any of my family or the people closest to me. They will tell you that I have shifted and changed in ways that do not even begin to make sense. And although I would say I am not in the “happiest” stage of life, I do believe that I have become (and continue to become) the most real and honest version of myself that I have ever been. 

I am not an extrovert. I am not an outgoing person. I do not like attention, and I do not like to be the topic of conversation. If I could somehow move to a remote cottage in the woods with my dog and remain connected to a small circle of friends and family I would do it in a heartbeat. All I would need is some books, a fireplace, a back porch, and a garden to grow flowers. I don’t do well with the hustle and bustle of daily life, and I often find myself getting extremely overwhelmed around large groups of people. Or, I get overwhelmed by having numerous things/events on my schedule. I’m terrible at committing to social events (shoutout to my friends who continue to invite me even though I only make it to about 50% of our hangouts), and I like to be in bed by 9:30. Some may say that is boring, but I don’t really care. It’s just me. 

I don’t know why I’m like this. Actually – that’s not entirely true. I think some of it is just the way God made me. Some of it is the result of trauma. And while I wouldn’t say I’m thankful for the difficult  things life has thrown at me, I do like the person I have become because of them. I like that simple things make me happy, and I like that I am learning to embrace the person I am at my core. Someone who loves literature, art museums, being outside, looking for birds, and traveling the world. Someone who has too many big feelings. 

I’ve been struggling with feeling content lately. Truth be told I’ve been struggling with this for the last nine years. It just feels more real now that I’m an adult and have become more settled with my life. It’s not that I’m unhappy. I do struggle with depression, but I’ve learned how to manage it. I just feel lost. I don’t know what my purpose is or what direction I’m headed. I don’t know if I’ve chosen the right career or if I even like living in Carrollton, GA. I’m sure a lot of people are experiencing similar things, but there’s something about being single in your mid-twenties that adds some extra pressure. There’s a loneliness that comes with having to figure out life on your own, and while it can be liberating at times it can also be isolating. And just to be transparent, I recognize that I’m only 24 and many people would still consider me to be a “baby.” I got called a baby just the other day, and while it annoyed me to an extent I understood where the person was coming from. Yes, I’m young. But that doesn’t change the fact that 90% of the people my age (or just around me in general) are either married or in committed relationships. It puts a different perspective on things. 

Let me be clear: this is not a call for pity. I have purposely chosen this path for myself. I could not settle down with someone I was not fully in love with. I would rather be single for the rest of my life than marry out of fear of being alone. But I do just want to say that I sympathize with women (and men) who are dealing with this. It can be painful to watch others around you have someone to lean on in times of distress and know that you do not (at least not in that way). To wish you had someone to start and end your day with. Someone who knows your deepest thoughts and fears. Someone who can say, “I know you’re not okay. I’m here. Tell me how to make it better.”  I get it. It sucks sometimes. It makes you wonder if you are important. If anyone would even care to fully know or love you. 

If you’re still reading this, good job. I feel as if I’ve rambled on and have not gotten anywhere (story of my life?) I guess the main thing I want to say is that I’m in a neutral position right now. I’m neither overly happy nor overly sad, and that is okay. No one has asked (or cares), and I don’t know why I’m telling the world that. I just know there have to be people who feel similarly. Who feel a bit lost. Who are neither happy nor sad but just kind of existing. Stuck in a state of numbness. Wondering if there is more for them waiting out there or if this is it. 

My Mimi called my dad the other day and told him that she was afraid she’d missed her time to die. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about that or what exactly she meant. Nor have I been able to stop thinking about the reverse and its relation to my life. I’m afraid I’ve missed my time to live. I am well aware that life goes by in the blink of an eye. That everyone around me is suffering or hurting to some degree. That none of us get a choice in how we enter or exit this world. However, I want to make the most of it. I don’t want to be numb and lost forever. And while I don’t know how exactly I’m going to get myself out of this “limbo” I’m in, I do know that adventures can happen when you least expect them. New opportunities and loves can appear when you were not even looking. 

If you, like me, don’t really know where you are headed, just know that you are not alone in that. It’s okay to not be okay. It’s okay to not know. Just remember that your life does not need to look like those around you. Do not be afraid to open new doors, for you are never too young or old to begin again. 

For now, I’ll continue to look for the simple joys in my everyday life. To remember the moments I’ve shared with my Mimi. To be grateful for every version of myself that has come before now. To trust that good things lie ahead of me.