That Day I Compared Myself to A Dirty Car

I’ve only been on this beautiful earth for a mere 23 years, but, in that time, I find that I’ve learned quite a bit about life.

This is sounding so melodramatic.

Whatever.

Today has been a strange day. It hasn’t been a bad day by any means. It’s actually been great. The morning, for example, began with iced coffee and donuts for my coworker whose last day is today. That’s a fun thing. I read, I ran errands, I bought way too many Mardi Gras costume supplies, I made plans with friends, I bought makeup, I wrote, I grocery shopped, and now I’m sitting in a coffee shop writing about my feelings. Because I’m having them. A lot of them. And instead of either drinking a bottle of wine or settling into a yoga inversion, I’ve decided to flex my writing muscle. I think that’s been a good choice on my part, so far.

I feel like my life is going through some sort of change. Perhaps I can describe it as going through a car wash. Let’s go with that and see where it takes us.

As early as last week, I was a vehicle covered in a layer of invisible dirt. You guys know what I’m talking about? From afar, your car looks clean as ever, but the closer you get, the more you notice the little specks of dirt. Those little black specks scattered all over your car, encapsulating it in a layer of filth. Gross, right? That was me. I was covered in dirt, for lack of a better word.

I’m sure we all remember our childhood. Some years may be slightly fuzzy for the majority of us. Maybe our memory isn’t that great or maybe we suppressed a certain time span of our upbringing. I know I did. I barely remember ages 13-15, which was 7th and 8th grade for me. It’s almost as if they didn’t even exist, like I hopped from the 6th grade to my freshman year of high school. Bizarre.

Regardless if your memory is hazy or not, we were all raised by our guardians bearing certain ideals and transferring them to us. For years, we, as children, thought that our guardian’s way of thinking was the only way of thinking. Depending on how you, as an individual, grow and evolve, you very well may adopt your parent’s ideals and carry them with you into adulthood. If you’re like me, you’re slowly, but surely, distancing yourself from them and formulating your own thoughts and views of the world.

Without getting into too many specifics for the sake of keeping the peace with whoever may be reading this (to which, I say, get over it), I voiced to a family member of mine that I didn’t agree with some of the foundations that were laid down for me as a child, and my viewpoints on a few choice subjects have changed.

Ballsy, I know.

For my family, at least.

Don’t get me wrong, I love my family. I mean, of course I do. They’re my family. But I didn’t choose my family, and I didn’t choose the way they raised me, and I didn’t choose to be raised believing certain things are wrong and right. I did, however, choose how to live my life post high school graduation. I chose to move away to college. I chose to major in Film and Theatre. I chose my friends. I chose my surroundings. I chose how to live my new life. And, to me, that’s perfectly okay. That’s normal. That might be the only normal thing about me… that I flew the nest like I was supposed to.

So here I am now. A 23-year-old college graduate living in New Orleans. I act. I write. I go out. I stay in. I workout. I eat carbs. I pray when I want, and I curse when I want. I smile at those I like, and I turn my head away from those I don’t. I support what I believe in, and disagree with what I don’t. I think. I use my brain and logic and free will to decide what’s right for me.

I decide what’s right for me.

You don’t.

And that’s perfectly okay.

That’s normal.

Since discovering that I have a mind of my own, my life has gotten exponentially easier and more satisfying, in most areas. In areas that matter. I’m happy. I’m happy with my life and who I let in it. I adore my friends, I adore my craft, and I adore sharing the love that I have with those that are deserving. Finally, after years and years of being covered in a layer of dirt, I feel clean.

And now I can finally shine.

 

 

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3 thoughts on “That Day I Compared Myself to A Dirty Car

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