Plodding Along.

I had a rather quiet high school experience. Except for that whole getting-hit-by-a-car thing in the ninth grade, my days were marked by slouching down in my chair, hoping not to get called on and holding my stomach, hoping no one would hear my stomach growl. I was scared of and intimidated by the other students, so talented and smart and pretty, and I tried my best to stay invisible. In high school, this is surprisingly easy to do!

I find myself drifting back to that time lately. I don't think about specific memories or classes or teachers; in fact, a lot of that time is rather blurry. While I can remember so many details about my accident and even my first week of college, high school was an endurance race. What I drift back to are the feelings I had. This constant anxiety and frustration over trying to be invisible and yet wanting to be seen. Over refusing to connect, yet desperately wanting to.

During times of change, we hold onto what we know. Once again, I have this pit of anxiety and frustration. Then as in now, there's little logic to it. And so I think about that quiet high school experience, slouching in my chair, hiding. I hold that experience close to me, now, because in the end those daily struggles didn't define me and my life.

So, yes, I'm still plodding.