Cyclical--

Yesterday, I walked into a charity shop looking for a new puzzle but I didn't find one with a good enough picture; they were all lacklustre images of dreary village roads and goofy childish pictures. I was in and out in five minutes. On my way out, I walked past the racks of old clothes and something caught my eye. I did that thing that you see in the movies where a character walks back and does a double take. It was a scarf. A red and purple scarf with a strand of glittery thread woven in. It looked exactly like a scarf I used to wear. I couldn't remember if I had ever donated that scarf but here in this moment, in this charity shop, it stared at me. I was confronted all of a sudden with the realisation that life goes on. Literally. This scarf, whether or not it was mine, moved on. Someone else will see it and think that they could make a life with it. They'll buy it and instantly, it has a new life. It's silly I know but I felt sad.

It felt like a part of me was gone and I hadn't realised it.

I suppose it reveals our biggest insecurities as people-- life continues regardless. Regardless of our happiness. Regardless of our sadness. Life and sadness and hope and joy and our dreams and death are all intertwined. We win some, we lose some and most of the time, we miss things. Seeing that scarf made me realise that I didn't have it anymore. That it wasn't mine. Which means that there are other things that are not mine.

There are other things which I don't have any longer. 

Dear future me,

Today, a student teacher said to you, "you make me smile, I like you! You're cute". This made you happy because you know that she genuinely meant it. But then it made you think, it made me think, am I going to be this person forever-- the cute, awkward one. I am awkward-- it's not just a hippy, bookish trait which I have appropriated-- there is a real awkwardness in my behaviour sometimes. That being said, I am always the first one to mention it and bring it up in conversation; I think it's because I don't want to be the kooky person who doesn't realise that they're kooky. In that moment today, I was pleased but I am sad now. I wonder when that time will end where I am constantly worrying. I wonder when I will not care as much anymore. It just feels heavy on my shoulders all the time. I am scared that I am going to be the person everyone mothers; what kind of a life is that?

I suspect that it comes down to age. The only problem with that is I am getting older and I'm not feeling it. I drove myself to school for the first time this week, and that made me feel like an adult for about five minutes. I wish there was a button. Beep and you're an adult. Enter phase 1. I'd pay, if that was an option. Alas, I am resigned to my fate. It sucks.

Maybe I'm holding on to my fears too tightly; I anticipate the worst and reminisce over the past constantly. This cannot be good for my mental health. Again, I know that this is an issue but I am not doing anything about it. Why am I not fixing it? And why am I writing to you-- to me -- when I could be fixing it? It's a vicious cycle.

The long and short of it, I suppose, is that I am confused about adulthood (like every other human on this planet. I am not under any illusions; I know that I am one of the masses in this instance). Pupils see me as an adult but I'm not as convinced and I worry that they will realise this and decide that I am not worth respecting.

Sidenote; I've been reading Sarah Kay's poetry collection "No matter the wreckage" and her poetry is honestly beautiful. I love it. I might do a review of it in the future.

Palimpsest

I rub you out 

then draw you 

again

I am tentative-- unsure, undecided, unsomething or another

From memory- blurred edges and a grey area stretch

like a shadow into me

into time

into blurred edges and grey area

I rub you out I draw I erase I tear apart

I --

You should have asked.

You switched the light off and the lamp on. The room jumped from darkness to dimness and my eyes crinkled. The words on the page in front of me turned away. Life blurred before me.

Sitting in my bed, a few meters parallel from yours, I try to focus the blur. Haltingly.

I hear the click of a switch. The dimness becomes darkness. I close my book shut and halt my mouth-- 

I am too sad and too tired to tell you...

Laptop thoughts..

It is 11:43 PM. I am sitting on bed, typing on my laptop in darkness. A bright white light beams from the power button on my printer at the other end of the room. Shadows of my open door sit at the top of the stairs, leading down into the rest of the house where almost everyone else is sleeping. I received an important email today. This evening. Life-changing, in a way. I'm pretty sure that in the months to come I shall want to remember this moment. Or perhaps I won't. That's the problem with time. It is always leaving. I won't know until the time comes. 

When I first saw the email, part of me was relieved. It was something I was sort of waiting for, in the back of my mind. I wasn't panicking about it but it was something that I imagine I would panic about later down the line. The second emotion was definitely fear. I attended a lecture this week on adolescence. One of the things which stood out to me was when the speaker mentioned that teenagers and young adults can be fearful of failure, which we'd sort of expect, but they can also be fearful of success. The speaker also mentioned that adolescence is a period that is lengthening-- some people don't move on from adolescence until their mid-twenties. That leaves me in the space of adolescence. It's weird because the lecture was pitched at new teachers understanding their pupils and their experiences of being adolescents. For me, though, I realised that I am still very much making that transition. Getting that email made me feel fear because it was a great sign of great things to come. But that's a terrifying concept, especially for someone who doesn't feel at all prepared for it emotionally or psychologically. I feel like I am the adolescent the speaker was talking about. Fearful of success and in the middle of making a transition from one stage of life to another. 

Why is it that when we are young we want to grow up and when we grow up we want to be young? Why can we never be in the moment? I don't know how to be an adult. I don't know how to feel about being one and I don't know how to move into that space? What does an adult sound like? What does an adult do? What will I lose?

What hurts the most is that I am happy about the email, but I am too focused on failing. I don't know how to stop myself from feeling like I am going to fail. I don't know how to accept the happiness and embrace it. I am worried that I will be lulling myself into a false sense of security. Perhaps I am preparing myself for failure. Perhaps experiencing is believing and I'm still in the stage of disbelief. 

I mentioned in a previous post that being a PGCE students requires cheerleading on one's behalf. 

Here goes:

I can do it.

I can do it.

I've already done it.

I will do it again.

I can do it.

And if I can't, it's okay. 

The centre will hold.