The last time I felt scared to leave home was when I was 13 and everyone was going to summer camp. I actually had been to summer camp many years prior and had absolutely zero fears about going to summer camp or leaving home for that matter. For some reason at age 13 when I should have been wildly excited about getting to spend a few months with friends in the mountains doing fun activities and learning about nature, instead I felt serious anxiety, so much anxiety in fact that I had to go home and have my dad pick me up in the middle of my third night.
This was the last time I felt scared leaving home until recently when my parents moved out of the bay area and down south to LA. This time I felt scared leaving home, only I wasn’t leaving, they were, and although we were in the same state, six hours is a long drive.
I don’t necessarily know why I felt so scared to be transitioning out of the comforts of my family to be on my own again, but for whatever reason, the thought gave me a lot of fear. Crippling to an extent.
I stopped writing.
I stopped vlogging.
I practically avoided any serious emotional conversation or even mentioning the idea, so much so that I forgot they were leaving until two days before the move.
All that and I had serious fear over this next stage of my life.
I didn’t exactly know what was going on or why, but I decided to bottle it up and avoid it. Last week Morgan and I moved into our new apartment and like a madman, I threw myself into trying to make it feel like home and once again avoided my feelings.
Then one day, I exploded. I actually was a super asshole to Morgan at Whole Foods about how to properly bag a cart. I got really annoyed and stormed off and he was just as confused as the cashier.
I hate myself sometimes because, in spite of my own sense of emotional awareness, I so deeply lack the maturity to be open and honest about my own emotions, yet I require everyone else to be honest and open to me. I mean I know that logically I can actually talk about my own emotions, I am able to share and discuss, but what is it in me that so much wants to avoid any sad or dark things. It’s like I’m trying to force everyone else to live with me on a cloud of sunshine and ponies and even when those clouds are actually shit and the ponies are skunks, I still prance around pretending everything is fine.
It’s actually pretty selfish of myself to do that.
As I enter into this new stage of life, working on my business and moving into a new apartment, I don’t want to enter into it without first letting go of all those things. I can’t expect everyone to live on a cloud of sunshine and ponies, just because I do. It’s okay to sometimes feel sad about things. It’s okay to be upset and feel that. Only maybe instead of wallowing, because wallowing doesn’t help anyone, put a timer on it. Then pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and realize that the world is beautiful and despite all of the chaos the sun is shining. And maybe, just maybe, you too can jump into the sky and join me on my cloud of sunshine and ponies, or not.