Which Swing Breaks the Stone

There is nothing like your parents basement to ignite the creative fire.

Let me be so clear - this will not be the dreaded “New Years Resolutions" article or a survival guide for navigating familial politics around the holidays.

No, this post is sparked by the very palpable feeling of walking up the same stairs, sleeping in the same bed, and opening the same fridge handle as your former self.

For those of us who have returned to our childhood homes in recent months, we are confronted by the person we used to be and the person we strive to become. This means the six-year-old learning to read, and the middle schooler carefully plotting the color of their braces. There is the teenager fighting an uphill battle of swelling hormones, and the 20-something who has been drop-kicked by the reality of adulthood.

We are our own safety net now, and that shit is scary.

I hope I am not alone in feeling utterly humiliated on behalf of my younger self. As someone who is far from perfect, I am still haunted by the memories of when I wanted to crawl out of my skin and be anyone other than the person I saw in the mirror.

I think that returning home as adults, we begin to see our parents and mentors as people. People who are trying their best despite the unexpected turns life has in store. Here are these individuals who took my shit day after day because they loved me enough to know I was acting out of fear. Then we realize that we deserve to have the same sense of forgiveness and grace with ourselves.

I have taken it upon myself to resist the urge to run from who I was ten years and even six months ago.

The girl who started this blog was a very numbed out senior in college who was living at home, in outpatient treatment for an eating disorder, and whose only goal was to get away with the next lie. I was embarrassed by the fact I was living in secret and that I pushed everyone away who wanted nothing more than to help.

Three years go by. I don't lie to my parents, at least not about the big stuff. Even on the days I don't love my appearance or slip up in my job, I don't allow that to impact my self-worth. I work my tail off in my job and work even harder at my relationships. I still feel lonely, sad, disappointed, and burnt out a lot of the time - but that girl three years ago, she wasn't even living in her body.

Rather than judging whether our progress is "good enough" or if we are "successful" (these are all subjective right?), let's shift our focus toward trends.

Who were YOU three years ago? Who were you when you last intereacted with a friend or family member?

If those questions breed disappointment, each interaction is another chance. Each moment is a potential turning point.

Even if that means greeting a stranger when we could look at our phones, calling someone we care about when we could watch Netflix, or taking a deep breath when we could go down a mental rabbit hole - there are always micro moments that present opportunity. These accumulated moments make up the transformation; it's very rarely a single wake-up call.

Sure, the New Year is a great excuse to move the needle, but we never really know which of our swings breaks the stone.