The strangest feeling is returning home after being gone for a long time and finding that nothing has changed, but you are so different. I'm calling my return to Messiah my "old/new life." I'm going back to the way things were a year ago, but I am not the same person. But nothing is different here in Grantham; everything is safe, a routine. I never noticed until I left it.
Overall, I am learning to slowly accept my old/new life. I LOVE living in the Restoration house: I love practically having a room to myself, I love having a kitchen to cook in, I love being independent from my friends and making my own schedule. I like that guys can pop in whenever and there's no RA's treating me like a child.
It feels more like... real life. And less like the college bubble.
I'm not quite sure where I fit in, though. I am trying to balance my old Messiah friends and my new Messiah friends I made in England. I'm trying to stay in contact with friends from high school and friends living in Cheltenham. I'm trying to build relationships with the Resto house people on top of all of that, and what I've noticed is this: each group of people expects something different from me.
I find myself acting differently around each person, or group of people.
My conservative high school and Messiah friends are SO different from my Chelt friends, or even the Messiah girls I became close with in England. Sometimes I feel like I am constantly having to pull myself in; to make sure I don't say something outrageous that no one in England would bat an eye at.
Trying to please everyone is...
Exhausting.
To be the girl that reads her Bible and goes to church, and then also be the girl who loves to go out and club and yell FUCKING HELL at bad drivers is quite a conundrum.
But does it have to be? What if I stopped thinking of what people think of me, and I just.. am?
It's called middle ground.
Frankly, I've never been the most conservative and uber-religious person out there.
I've also never been a crazy, outgoing, up-all-night party girl either.
And I never will be: I'm in the middle.
Why can't I be in the middle? Does God ever say: "thou shalt not party with thine friends."
No.
I love God, I love people. I'm learning that it's enough. I'm still whole.
Coming back here, I've felt guilty about my time in England.
But I'm not going to anymore. I hate the pressure I feel, like I must make a choice between the people I have been.
I just want to be one person. One Erin who is part Lancaster and part Messiah and part England, and not feel shame for any of these parts, and have them all work together.
I am who I am.
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
Sunday, February 20, 2011
Alive
I don't know what's come over me: two posts in the same day?! Inspiration, I guess. I just need to write down what's on my heart tonight.
It's 2 am here and I can't sleep, per usual. I'm rarely tired before 3. But I am laying in my bed in the dark listening to Bon Iver while the orange streetlights are shining on me and I notice... I'm happy. Content, I think, is an accurate word. This feeling has been a long time coming- I can't remember the last time in years that I have felt like this. I'm not skipping around singing showtunes, of course, but I think I am actually beginning to heal from the years of unknown damage I had done to myself.
I've always scrutinized myself, judged myself, berated myself, but rarely ever accepted myself. It's easier not to so you won't get let down. Oddly enough, this summer at camp, each female staff received a bracelet with one word on it in beads, and mine said "Accepted." I was like "duh, everyone accepts each other at camp, it's the nicest place on earth." And "duh, I'm accepted by God, who isn't?" But the real challenge was to accept myself. The past year I had pushed myself so hard to attain... what? Perfection? I learned that didn't make me happy. I ran myself into the ground at camp by worrying incessantly about food and exercise, and was miserable. I did this at college, too, until one night after a shower I looked at myself in the mirror, and noticed how I really hadn't seen myself truly in months. My true self was tired and anxious. I was on the verge of a meltdown, and that's what happened. Que many emotional, mental, physical and spiritual breakdowns at the same time: that was me. At times I just laid in my bed and wished to be in a coma. Low point.
Oddly enough, the darkest days of my life had splotches of sun in them. Every time I fell, my family and friends picked me back up and set me on my feet. I learned who would always be standing behind me, and who leaves when it gets rough. I have no resentment, only gratitude.
At Messiah, new people came into my life who would chase away the darkness and leave me feeling human again. I laughed, really laughed, around them. Ironically, I had one of the best nights of my life during one of the worst times of it. My old friends became even better friends, and I went from liking them a lot to truly loving them.
I was nervous to come to England- what if I couldn't handle it? But it's been such a cure for me. Not a magic potion, for sure, but enough to shake me from a heavy funk. I didn't realize how much I needed something so so different. I'm making an effort to not hold myself back. Nothing dangerous or illegal of course, just things that make me uncomfortable normally.
My life here isn't especially exciting, but it suits and satisfies me. I do my schoolwork on the second floor of a Starbucks while sipping a tall caramel macchiato. Sometimes I bring my newly acquired sketch book and draw random things I see out of the window. I go to classes which are usually a bit over my head. I walk down High Street and try on clothes I do not need and definitely cannot afford. Sometimes I buy them anyway. I go to the gym and run or go to spin class and sweat like it's my job, and curse myself every time.
On some nights I put on more makeup than necessary and do my hair and go out with my British and American friends. We go to clubs with loud music and we dance and laugh and get chips (french fries) on the 3 am walk back. Danielle and I will make scrambled eggs and talk about the weird people we met and before I know it it's 6 am: class the next day is not an option. Oh well. Sometimes, I just walk around town and watch. I watch young people shopping, I watch the homeless guys with their dogs, I watch old couples holding hands.
I love that there are always people around when I don't want to be alone, but it's easy for me to escape and find some solitude. I miss home sometimes, and I dream about it almost every night. But they're not sad dreams, just dreams of me standing in my house or something like that.
I was watching The Holiday last week, and one of the characters, Iris, leaves her home that she loves because she is restless and knows she needs more. She says this:
It's 2 am here and I can't sleep, per usual. I'm rarely tired before 3. But I am laying in my bed in the dark listening to Bon Iver while the orange streetlights are shining on me and I notice... I'm happy. Content, I think, is an accurate word. This feeling has been a long time coming- I can't remember the last time in years that I have felt like this. I'm not skipping around singing showtunes, of course, but I think I am actually beginning to heal from the years of unknown damage I had done to myself.
I've always scrutinized myself, judged myself, berated myself, but rarely ever accepted myself. It's easier not to so you won't get let down. Oddly enough, this summer at camp, each female staff received a bracelet with one word on it in beads, and mine said "Accepted." I was like "duh, everyone accepts each other at camp, it's the nicest place on earth." And "duh, I'm accepted by God, who isn't?" But the real challenge was to accept myself. The past year I had pushed myself so hard to attain... what? Perfection? I learned that didn't make me happy. I ran myself into the ground at camp by worrying incessantly about food and exercise, and was miserable. I did this at college, too, until one night after a shower I looked at myself in the mirror, and noticed how I really hadn't seen myself truly in months. My true self was tired and anxious. I was on the verge of a meltdown, and that's what happened. Que many emotional, mental, physical and spiritual breakdowns at the same time: that was me. At times I just laid in my bed and wished to be in a coma. Low point.
Oddly enough, the darkest days of my life had splotches of sun in them. Every time I fell, my family and friends picked me back up and set me on my feet. I learned who would always be standing behind me, and who leaves when it gets rough. I have no resentment, only gratitude.
At Messiah, new people came into my life who would chase away the darkness and leave me feeling human again. I laughed, really laughed, around them. Ironically, I had one of the best nights of my life during one of the worst times of it. My old friends became even better friends, and I went from liking them a lot to truly loving them.
I was nervous to come to England- what if I couldn't handle it? But it's been such a cure for me. Not a magic potion, for sure, but enough to shake me from a heavy funk. I didn't realize how much I needed something so so different. I'm making an effort to not hold myself back. Nothing dangerous or illegal of course, just things that make me uncomfortable normally.
My life here isn't especially exciting, but it suits and satisfies me. I do my schoolwork on the second floor of a Starbucks while sipping a tall caramel macchiato. Sometimes I bring my newly acquired sketch book and draw random things I see out of the window. I go to classes which are usually a bit over my head. I walk down High Street and try on clothes I do not need and definitely cannot afford. Sometimes I buy them anyway. I go to the gym and run or go to spin class and sweat like it's my job, and curse myself every time.
On some nights I put on more makeup than necessary and do my hair and go out with my British and American friends. We go to clubs with loud music and we dance and laugh and get chips (french fries) on the 3 am walk back. Danielle and I will make scrambled eggs and talk about the weird people we met and before I know it it's 6 am: class the next day is not an option. Oh well. Sometimes, I just walk around town and watch. I watch young people shopping, I watch the homeless guys with their dogs, I watch old couples holding hands.
I love that there are always people around when I don't want to be alone, but it's easy for me to escape and find some solitude. I miss home sometimes, and I dream about it almost every night. But they're not sad dreams, just dreams of me standing in my house or something like that.
I was watching The Holiday last week, and one of the characters, Iris, leaves her home that she loves because she is restless and knows she needs more. She says this:
"And after all that, however long all that may be, you'll go somewhere new. And you'll meet people who make you feel worthwhile again. And little pieces of your soul will finally come back. And all that fuzzy stuff, those years of your life that you wasted, that will eventually begin to fade.”I know exactly how she feels.
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