I was ten.

Where do I start?

I suppose I can start here.

Where and how does one start or re-start a relationship that has been strained at best for the last 18 years? Where does one pick up the pieces when you don’t even know where the start is or was?

It’s all a jumble of emotions. Opinions. Some facts. But mostly perspective. A man I know used to say, there are three sides to a story. That has stuck with me. I suppose there is my story, and there were other stories, but I feel that it gets more leniency. I was ten. I did not have the tools others did at their disposal, regardless of how mature I was. And ten years olds shouldn’t be mature. They should be children. I’m still not sure what I was at that time, at this time. I feel more a child now, at times, than I did then. Maybe I am making up for lost time. Or maybe that’s just how things are meant to be.

Imagine two cultures, two races, two families, from across the world trying to merge into one. Who is to say what works and what doesn’t? Where does one find guidelines for this acquisition? There is no handbook. There are maybe some absolute truths, although I haven’t thought about what they are, nor how they relate here. Nor would I know at ten how to relate them even if I did know them. Knowing Pie to the 6th decimal place may have dubbed me smart, but it did not give me wisdom. I. Was. Ten.

I suppose in this is my strength, how I draw my strength, and why I have it. Just “going for it”. Whatever “it” may be. I don’t dwell on things. What’s the point? A decision was made. It was being lived out. It’s not like I could change it nor did I find it necessary to. I was a kid. Kids get excited about stuff. They get excited about adventure. This was an adventure. A new country. A new life. Perhaps, a new hope. More of everything, but not stuff, the non-materialistic stuff. Stuff you find when you gaze at the stars.
Perhaps I was always a positive kid. Perhaps I was born that way, or so I am told. I was happy. I got sad, but I was happy, because I was excited about life.
I didn’t dive into deep thoughts, because my little brain didn’t have deep thoughts. There was nowhere to get deep thoughts from. I. Was. Ten.
And then perhaps with age, a language, friends, experiences, society, culture, outside influences, inside influences, hormones, and just natural growth and evolution of a little human being, I dove into my thoughts. Perhaps they were always there, just quietly being harbored by the thread of my brain matter.
I dove into fear, lack of understanding, lack of story, lack of excitement. Where did I fit in in the grand scheme of things? I didn’t. Not really. I didn’t fit. I was fourteen.
And then there were boys and then there were hormones, and then there was high school and peer pressure and a chance to find “my identity” or who I am. But wasn’t I that already? Maybe. But I was also fourteen.
And then I grew up. I grew into a young adult. Mature and immature. Mature with life. Immature with self. And the journey of my twenties began. Self seeking. Self loathing. Self gratifying. Full of heartbreak, and fun and laughter. It is said that the tears equal out the laughter, and the laughter eguals out the tears. I don’t know if there’s an equation for it, but I cried a lot and I laughed a lot. My heart broke a lot. I let it. It loved and it faltered.

And then I realized that I had to seek something greater than myself, some greater purpose. And I faltered again. I trailed off course, on a side road, but I’m back on the road.
I am still growing up. I don’t ever want to really grow up. Not all the way. Not completely. I think that is the journey. To walk alongside my inner child. She seeks excitement, and love and light. She seeks adventure. She’s not scared. She seeks life. She wants to climb a tree and a mountain, or a rope in CrossFit. She pushes me to try and jump all in, without overthinking. What if this will hurt? Oh! Well! She is brave. That little girl will always be. Be brave. For all the times she was told she couldn’t. For all the fear. For all the nos. For all the “because you are a girl”. She did it anyways. She proved them wrong. And some won’t ever know.

She is.

I am.

Advertisements
This entry was posted in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to I was ten.

  1. Dave Heffner says:

    I absolutely love this. Love it. Proud of you. Don’t you dare stop.

    “Where does one find guidelines for this acquisition? There is no handbook. There are maybe some absolute truths, although I haven’t thought about what they are, nor how they relate here. Nor would I know at ten how to relate them even if I did know them. Knowing Pie to the 6th decimal place may have dubbed me smart, but it did not give me wisdom. I. Was. Ten.”

    Among others….

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s