One Step at a Time
It's been a couple of months since I've written on here again. In January, I had this grand plan to write at least once a month, and I did so well with it until I got home from my first year at school. Then life happened. My summer was, in a word, nuts. I worked at a total of places of employment. I received my endowments in the Houston Temple (for friends not of my faith, this is a sacred ceremony where I make covenants or promises with God to prepare for eternity), broke up with my first boyfriend, understudied in a show for some friends, performed my first solos in almost a year outside of church, took a break from voice lessons for the first time in eight years, and tried to figure out who the heck I was and where I wanted to go.
Then I went back to school. Between my first apartment, getting a calling in my ward that I do not feel at all qualified for, some unfortunate social situations, changes in family dynamics, mental health struggles for both myself and my closest friends, several all nighters, nine classes, and STILL not being officially accepted into my major, I haven't felt anything resembling stability in I don't even know how long.
I should also add that there were a myriad of things leading up to such an intense year. As much as I have loved my time at Brigham Young University so far, the past two and a half semesters have tried me in ways I did not expect or want, and so often I feel like I am in some kind of dreadful eternal free fall. I keep hoping that any day now things are just going to click and suddenly I'll be the well-adjusted young adult everyone else seems to be (to some degree) and things will just work. Maybe this is a sign that I'm getting wiser, or at least more cynical, but I don't think that will ever happen. I understand that everyone feels like they have no idea what's going on, but I wish I had something solid enough in my life so I didn't have to feel like I am eternally walking over these eggshells no one else seems to worry about breaking.
However, I have also experienced so many blessings. For the first time, I feel like I have friends I can rely on. It's not as simple as it sounds, because I still have daily battles with old memories and voices telling me that I can't have healthy relationships, that things are going to go horribly wrong and that everyone hates me, but these friends always remind me that they love me. We go on adventures, and stay out too late, but I can also talk to them and feel like they're listening. Y'all, I know that is like...bare minimum what friends should be, but I have been in a lot of situations where I have felt like I can't expect people to care about me as a person. To some extent, I still don't expect people to care about me as a person. It's a process. I am making progress. But for now, I am grateful for friends who don't get offended that I am still somewhat uncomfortable being accepted as I am, and who do what they can to help me overcome my own anxieties and triggers.
I have a family who loves me. This is something I actually have always had, I just wouldn't let myself believe it. Sometimes, as with everything, it's still hard to believe it. Not because of anyone or anything--I just struggle allowing myself to be loved. They do love me, though. Sometimes we go monster hunting or swing dancing, we love playing games together, and I know that when I am with them, I am going to have fun. We are all different, but I can be myself when they are around. I didn't realize until recently how rare that is for me--I can be myself with no fear that it isn't enough, that I am not going to be thrown out for a misstep or wrong word. I talk to my parents and brother at home a lot. I think we all go through patches where we aren't sure how to talk to our family, but I think I am finally at a point where it's getting figured out. My brother is a punk and still says "Hi...bye..." most (if not all) the times we talk, but I don't know what I'd do without him. My parents and I have figured a lot of stuff out. My relationships with my family will never be perfect, but no one's are and I need to stop putting pressure on myself for the times that we are bound to miss communicate.
I really love all of my classes. Yes, there are nine of them, and yes, I am probably more than a little crazy, but I can tell you with absolute certainty that they are all what I need right now. I am being pushed more than I ever have been before, and sometimes that push is nearly to the point of breaking, but I am growing. I have learned more than I thought I could about my arts, my Savior, and myself than I thought possible in less than two months. There are days I can even say I am confident in myself and my abilities--again, the bar is on the ground, but I have been in a bottomless pit of self-esteem issues for the last ten years, so the days I can even reach the ground are miraculous.
Along with that, I have seen miracles. Most of them are so small that many wouldn't call them miracles at all, but I know differently. Life doesn't just happen in a way that's convenient. There is something larger in play.
Overall, so much has happened that I could never catch someone up over a cup of tea or even a dinner party. There is too much that I don't know yet to even try--it'd be a series of half-finished stories on a dozen killer cliff-hangers. I think that's okay, though. Part of the joys of living is that you will never run out of stories to tell. No one has to know all of them. Most people won't even hear a third of them. I am constantly running into details I thought everyone knew about me that it turns out never really come up. Isn't that the coolest thing? There are parts of you that are absolutely integral to who you are that live just beneath the surface, but it takes time for people to get there. You will never stop getting to know your best friends, your spouse or significant other, your family. There is always the potential to surprise even those closest to you. I jump scare easily, but I love a good surprise.
Of course, getting to know yourself and others isn't always pretty. I have known myself for almost 20 years, and it still feels like half the time I stumbling upon triggers and scars and traumas I wasn't ever aware existed. There are growing pains in every relationship, and none more so than in your relationship with yourself. There will be times you will come across something that hurts, and apologies will be made and red tape put up while the healing process takes place. That's okay. Being a good friend, and being good to yourself, does not require perfection, or even near perfection. It simply requires effort. One thing I am working on is dedicating myself each day to be a little kinder to myself and others than I was the day before.
I do not know everything. In fact, I can confidently say I know very little. However, what I do know can sustain me in my quest to learn more. I know that there is a purpose to this life. Not only is there a purpose to life on a whole, there is a purpose to my life. I don't quite know what it is yet. It is as multi-faceted as my personality, as limitless as my ambition, as wild as I am chaotic. I know that part of it takes place on stage. I know I can find peace and meaning at the piano, and I am always making discoveries when I take the time to sit down with a journal and pen, but why am I, Jessie Pew, here? I couldn't say yet. I may not know for certain at any point in this life. But I am searching for it, and I am working to find whatever bits and pieces Heavenly Father is willing to show me.
I have worked hard to get where I am now. I am becoming someone I can be proud of, and I am learning every day that myself is a pretty darn okay thing to be. I have learned from past mistakes, failed relationships, and misguided choices, and I do better than I have before. I still make a lot of stupid mistakes. I often am too reckless with myself, and I definitely don't often make wise decisions about when I should go to sleep. But I am trying. I am getting better at owning my past and myself, and I am slowly but surely learning that feelings are not these scary and dangerous things that I must always try to hide in order to find peace and joy. There are still moments where it doesn't feel safe enough to breathe, and I still have to be given permission to feel and be, but I am starting to let myself relax. You can't tell yet, when it comes to me and emotional tension, BOY IS THERE A LOT TO UNPACK THERE, but I promise, it is happening. I'm branching out, trying new things, and also trying old things that I think I am ready to be imperfect at.
There are so many things I wish I knew. There are so many places I could go from here, and the literal infinite number of choices I can make at any point is terrifying. Life is happening, and boy is it happening, and I will spend a lifetime trying to catch up with myself. But I am here.
Then I went back to school. Between my first apartment, getting a calling in my ward that I do not feel at all qualified for, some unfortunate social situations, changes in family dynamics, mental health struggles for both myself and my closest friends, several all nighters, nine classes, and STILL not being officially accepted into my major, I haven't felt anything resembling stability in I don't even know how long.
I should also add that there were a myriad of things leading up to such an intense year. As much as I have loved my time at Brigham Young University so far, the past two and a half semesters have tried me in ways I did not expect or want, and so often I feel like I am in some kind of dreadful eternal free fall. I keep hoping that any day now things are just going to click and suddenly I'll be the well-adjusted young adult everyone else seems to be (to some degree) and things will just work. Maybe this is a sign that I'm getting wiser, or at least more cynical, but I don't think that will ever happen. I understand that everyone feels like they have no idea what's going on, but I wish I had something solid enough in my life so I didn't have to feel like I am eternally walking over these eggshells no one else seems to worry about breaking.
I have a family who loves me. This is something I actually have always had, I just wouldn't let myself believe it. Sometimes, as with everything, it's still hard to believe it. Not because of anyone or anything--I just struggle allowing myself to be loved. They do love me, though. Sometimes we go monster hunting or swing dancing, we love playing games together, and I know that when I am with them, I am going to have fun. We are all different, but I can be myself when they are around. I didn't realize until recently how rare that is for me--I can be myself with no fear that it isn't enough, that I am not going to be thrown out for a misstep or wrong word. I talk to my parents and brother at home a lot. I think we all go through patches where we aren't sure how to talk to our family, but I think I am finally at a point where it's getting figured out. My brother is a punk and still says "Hi...bye..." most (if not all) the times we talk, but I don't know what I'd do without him. My parents and I have figured a lot of stuff out. My relationships with my family will never be perfect, but no one's are and I need to stop putting pressure on myself for the times that we are bound to miss communicate.
I really love all of my classes. Yes, there are nine of them, and yes, I am probably more than a little crazy, but I can tell you with absolute certainty that they are all what I need right now. I am being pushed more than I ever have been before, and sometimes that push is nearly to the point of breaking, but I am growing. I have learned more than I thought I could about my arts, my Savior, and myself than I thought possible in less than two months. There are days I can even say I am confident in myself and my abilities--again, the bar is on the ground, but I have been in a bottomless pit of self-esteem issues for the last ten years, so the days I can even reach the ground are miraculous.
Along with that, I have seen miracles. Most of them are so small that many wouldn't call them miracles at all, but I know differently. Life doesn't just happen in a way that's convenient. There is something larger in play.
Of course, getting to know yourself and others isn't always pretty. I have known myself for almost 20 years, and it still feels like half the time I stumbling upon triggers and scars and traumas I wasn't ever aware existed. There are growing pains in every relationship, and none more so than in your relationship with yourself. There will be times you will come across something that hurts, and apologies will be made and red tape put up while the healing process takes place. That's okay. Being a good friend, and being good to yourself, does not require perfection, or even near perfection. It simply requires effort. One thing I am working on is dedicating myself each day to be a little kinder to myself and others than I was the day before.
I do not know everything. In fact, I can confidently say I know very little. However, what I do know can sustain me in my quest to learn more. I know that there is a purpose to this life. Not only is there a purpose to life on a whole, there is a purpose to my life. I don't quite know what it is yet. It is as multi-faceted as my personality, as limitless as my ambition, as wild as I am chaotic. I know that part of it takes place on stage. I know I can find peace and meaning at the piano, and I am always making discoveries when I take the time to sit down with a journal and pen, but why am I, Jessie Pew, here? I couldn't say yet. I may not know for certain at any point in this life. But I am searching for it, and I am working to find whatever bits and pieces Heavenly Father is willing to show me.
There are so many things I wish I knew. There are so many places I could go from here, and the literal infinite number of choices I can make at any point is terrifying. Life is happening, and boy is it happening, and I will spend a lifetime trying to catch up with myself. But I am here.
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