I feel like I’ve finally grown into my legs. And no, I don’t mean literally. Well, maybe.
It’s hard to explain exactly what I mean by this phrase; this phrase that’s been consuming my thoughts since I took the included picture on my flight back to Chicago a few weeks ago. A picture of my new home: New York City. Everyone that reads the blog knows I live in NYC 8 out of 12 months of the year, it’s practically all I write about. However, a vital part of my life has not been explored yet with our lovely readers: my life prior to New York. Honestly, I’m not surprised I’ve yet to talk about it on We’re The Stars— I rarely think about my life previous to NYC unless I’m home, which isn’t often.
As any college kid who moved more than 3 hours from home knows, 4 months can make a world of difference. The time between the last sleep in your childhood bedroom and the first time back from college feels like 60 years and 60 minutes, simultaneously. And nobody talks about it! Everything has changed, and yet everything is the same. Enough change to make you uncomfortable, but not enough for anyone but you to notice. Your bedroom smells different, your books are dusty and your shoes aren’t in their usual spot. The local diner is a different color, the food you like isn’t in the pantry, and there are new things in your car. Your home friends are excited to see you, yet they talk about things you’ve never heard of, plans you missed, and people you don’t know. To no fault of their own, you’ve grown up.
It’s all enough to make someone spiral into dissociation—and I don’t use that term lightly or incorrectly. I experienced this very thing when I came home for the first time in October. I wrote about my trip home in the article “Adjusting to the Hustle” (under City Life), and to be honest, I made it sound like rainbows and butterflies. And honey, it was nothing of the sort. I can picture it now: 3 days of mental fog, fake smiles, and distant eyes, always followed with a “Yeah, I’m okay! Just tired”. It’s true, I was tired, just not physically. I was tired emotionally, all of this unanticipated change was a bit of an overload to my system. I was there; I was present; I just wasn’t there, if you catch my drift. It’s alarming, confusing, and scary to realize that your hometown can move on without you. You think to yourself before you leave, “Of course my hometown will continue to move on, duh.” But thinking is another thing entirely than seeing the product of said “moving on”. All of this to say, coming home from college is no joke.
As I sit across from Ruby in local café, typing away, I can remember the last time I sat here. I was the same age; I looked relatively the similar; and yet I was a totally different person. I can’t explain what exactly has changed, other than the overwhelming feeling of being older (mostly coupled with the dread of that exact feeling). The conversation of “childhood” and “growing up” tends to be a trend with our generation, I sense. And noticeably, it’s always in a negative light. Why is that? I used to perceive growing up as a horrible thing; after all, I was loosing my teenage essence to the continual, inevitable passage of time. It was as if there was a constant red light flashing, screaming, “WARNING: YOUTH IS RUNNING OUT.” It wasn’t until I saw a post on some social media platform (please excuse me, I have no idea where I saw this) that stated, “Why is it that when men age, they only grow in usefulness, success, and credibility, yet when women age, they lose those exact qualities.” Wow, did this put the world in perspective for me. After reflecting on that statement, I decided to try and change my narrative on growing up. After all, the ever presence of aging wasn't going to change anytime soon. Switching my perspective, I created a journal entry where I stated 10 things I was excited to do as I got older. This included things like hosting my own dinner parties with friends, buying my sister expensive things for her birthday, decorating my future apartment for Christmas, going out for my 21st birthday, etc. As I journaled, the more I realized how excited I was to grow up, slowly gathering all the good that could come of this inevitable process.
Growing up isn’t intrinsically bad. In fact, it allows us to experience more of the world, while giving us time to love who we become. Enjoy it when you get the chance; it’s a good time.
xoxo, Maddie <3
