I think I’m starting to let go.
To let go of my previous life, my previous self. To let go of the hopes and dreams that I worked so hard for. To let go of the identity that I have clung to, so fiercely and for so long.
Part of me is terrified. Part of me wants to redouble my grip, to force myself back to that time when I felt confident. When I felt like I was on a path.
But there is another part, growing larger every day, that feels free. A part that glories in the release, that feels a burden lifted, not a blanket torn away.
I am starting to realize that I am not who I used to be. Not simply that I cannot do the things I used to do, but that I am altogether a different person.
A large part of that has to do with my physical change. Just one element of my condition, my light and sound sensitivity has changed something as simple as my relishing a bright and sunny day, to dreading it, and embracing the clouds.
My preferences have changed, my habits have changed, my thoughts have changed, and I have changed.
And while I find it terrifying to let go of the past, as well as freeing to embrace the present, lately I have another thought haunting my mind.
If I am not who I used to be, then who am I presently?
I grew up feeling very secure in myself. I did not have a 5 or 10 year plan, but I knew exactly what mattered to me. I knew what I wanted to spend my life doing, and I felt confident in my ability to work hard enough to achieve a life that I found fulfilling.
Now, however free, I am also adrift. My preferences have changed, and I am not familiar with them. I think that I want to listen to Puccini and then have to turn off the music because I cannot handle the dynamic orchestration. I am still solidifying my habits, experimenting, unsure. I am often taken aback by the thoughts that run through my mind, the areas I dwell on so different from before.
I am starting to let go of the person I once was. I am freeing myself of the responsibility I have felt towards that person, to persevere towards their passions and ambitions. And I am searching for what I want, here and now. What will make me happy. What life is right for me.
And that may actually coincide with my previous dreams. I don’t know. I don’t believe that that girl who wrote point form notes when ideas for the future struck is gone. I don’t think those dreams are irrelevant.
But I have changed. I have evolved. It is only natural that those dreams have too. And that my methods must as well.
It’s a lot to process, this lack of a path, map, or destination. And it’s scary.
But, after all, what is more normal for someone in their early 20s, than to feel unsure of who they are and what they want? To embark on a journey of self-discovery?
Maybe it’s not all that complicated. Maybe it’s just growth.