I’ve spent my entire life waiting for what’s next. Hoping that whatever’s to come will be the answer I’ve been waiting for, the explanation for all that I’ve gone through. When in fact, that time never came.
At 14 years old, I was convinced my emotions were the end-all, be-all. I saw no way out of the prison I had constructed in my mind. If I couldn’t find the key, I’d be left there to rot alongside the tenders to my cage; the same individuals who threw away said key. They told me I wasn’t worth it and I’d be better off dead. They had all the power. I believed them.
At 16 my cage gained new quarters, allowing me plenty of space to ruminate. I spent months spinning in circles, pulling my hair out, and trying to shake the memories of my previous confinement. Somehow, with even more space to consider my escape plan, I only felt more barred.
At 18 I left. I never escaped the cage, it just expanded to encompass what felt like all I encountered. I saw the cell tenders’ faces in those of my loved ones. New friends mimicked the behavior of old ones ten-fold. And suddenly, I realized it wasn’t a cage I was in. I was instead stuck in an unrealistic perspective shift that could cost me any chance at peace for my future.
I looked for friendship in unusual places. I sent out anonymous pleas for someone, anyone, to listen to me. I was tired of nearly two decades of being told to “kill myself” when attempting to speak at my lunch table. I was ready to give someone all that I am in exchange for being cared about.
But then again, I found myself hoping, waiting, anticipating what’s next. This condition of mine I considered chronic until recently. Like a bug in my mind, or a bird in my ear, constantly convincing me: this is good for now. But what about after? This was a paradox even my newfound, closest friend, who I have insurmountable gratitude for, couldn’t pull me out of.
How will I tell my friend in my brain, she hates me? How will I pass my classes when depression convinces me I’m unworthy of education? How will I explain to anyone that I feel like the luckiest, most privileged girl on Earth, but still feel stripped of all my capabilities?
At a certain point, I started to notice rusting on the joints of my cage. My friends celebrated this progress, while I worried it was proof my struggles were invalid and simply artificial this whole time. I feared the disappearance of my self-hatred.
At 21, I understood. The only aspect of my future I could be sure of was my discontent with such a mindset. With such a realization, I was also forced to face one unfortunate fact: it’s my fault. Not that my diagnosed ailments or the prescriptions I require to stay alive are a result of my own sulking, but rather, this mental freeze I was experiencing came from my unwilling desire to put my foot on the gas.
I wish I could give 14 year old Sydney a hug and tell her that those girls who make you feel like you’re committing a crime by being alive will only turn out to be dirt under a future employer’s boot, in the way we all will. We are no different. I am no better. Instead, I have found perspective; a gift I wish I could grant everyone.
Because of my perspective, I hold no guilt, I pick my battles, and I am secure in what has often been referred to as my “judgy attitude.” I have built up walls not of protection, but of understanding, built from what is valuable to me. I know it’s no longer enough to have people who care about you. You must care about you.
What is valuable to me are friends who commit their time to understanding me. What is valuable to me is a way to sustain myself, be it a full-time job or the welcoming hug of my family home for the summer. What is valuable to me is letting go of the shame I have carried my entire life for being unapologetically myself.
I’m not sorry for how you feel about how I live my life anymore. These are words in my teen-years that would’ve laid me to rest, or at least induced a panic attack. But now I understand that without security of self and comfortability in identity, I have nothing.
I have made a home of what I once called a cage and nurture my space daily. I invite others in as well as invite them to leave when our energies no longer align. I shed guilt like snake skin in preparation for what’s to come.
And for once, I can say I’m excited to not know what that will be.
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