I also found a note I wrote in 1999. It cemented my belief that ten years ago I was who I am now, then lost myself in the next sevenish years, and now I'm slowly finding myself again. For all intents and purposes, the note looks almost suicidal. The truth is, it isn't. It's grey. It's like fluffy white sheep in a large muddy enclosure on a cloudy and cold day. It's content. It's hopeful. It's me. It's made me think a bit. Do I really enjoy what I say I do? Is what I say even what I think? And how do I know what I'm thinking isn't a smokescreen to stop me from dwelling on what I know I'm actually thinking? A screen I've become so accustomed to that I've come to ignore? Am I building on sand? Am I, by some perverse reasoning, becoming so counter-cultural that I've conformed to the genre that professes to be so?
In fact, I'm pretty much convinced that it is the case. It puts a lot of events of the last 3 years into perspective. The truth of the matter is that I need to strip myself bare. Get shaken to my foundations. Because the more I think about it, the direction I've been trying to get myself to go, and even what I currently am, is a shadow of my childhood self. Not the silly things I said, like liking exams cause it was the only time the class was quiet (amused many adults, that phrase did) but the essence of it. I like quiet. I love thinking. I really do enjoy learning and telling people what I've learnt. I honestly did like exams. I still do, if I've studied more than a few hours. Unfortunately doing well in school became out of style, and so I cut part of myself off. That's where it started. The minute I started caring what other people thought about what was right was where I lost myself. It was Junior 5. That statement was the last one of the sort. Junior 6 was finding your niche, I never found mine. I lost it to fit in. Every time it was suggested, I fervently denied it and made more of an effort to lose that reputation. It was also around the time I stopped joining my nanna for mass on saturdays. There you have it. I don't expect this to make much sense to you, in all honesty I'm writing this for purely selfish reasons.
Apart from the apparent depression, it highlighted another love of mine. Something else I lost. I can't derive the loss of this one. I think it was to do with not making time for it. Time and again I've wanted to pick it up again, and I've failed every time.
Looking back, it's so stupid that I did what I did. But what nine year old knows what's best for them? Especially a nine year old who is at her happiest when alone. I know that you can't live in the past, and have to move forward and progress. But really, how can it be called progression if I'm going further from who I am? Building on a false idea. The time lost means other things have developed and need to be incorporated into that old me, the real one. They don't conflict anyway, so it can't be too hard. Somehow, this will work.
The next two weeks will be stressful. Absolutely no question about it. For a bunch of unrelated reasons. But maybe this will help. Maybe it will make it harder, but I think it will help more.