Bottomline: one does not have an ‘I am finding my soul’ sit-down session in a classroom filled with noisy age mates, angry teachers and homework deadlines, that sort of shenanigans is solely reserved for the holidays
When I think of teenhood, I mostly think of high school. This is because that is the phase of life where a lot of changes happened (and I’m not just talking of the physical ones). In fact, let’s re-establish teenhood, let us say that this is the phase where one becomes aware of themselves, of their personage, their life, their purpose, their being.
In that messy phase of my life, where I was discovering myself realizing I have to actually find my purpose on earth, unfortunately it had coincided with puberty. Now, this is not one of those stories where a person goes through a hard time knowing who they are, discovering (through a dramatic epiphany) that life is beautiful because rainbows and flowers exist, then the story is converted into a coming of age movie( I wouldn’t put you through such torture, breathe easy).
I am talking about the cold, hard smack across the face that has you staring in a mirror thinking “ Am I really in this body, living this life, and people expect certain things for me” then you start panicking about the essence of life itself (cue existential crisis),does all this really matter?
So this commentary is about purpose, it is about finding your spot in the puzzle of life. It is about learning your curves and straight sides, knowing the core of your soul. In fact, let’s assume this is a therapy session about life being given by a not-so-much-knowing 21 year old university girl.
In the hazy days of my teen life (I can’t remember all the details, remember commentary one, about memory repression?) I had a sit-down with myself. It was a beautiful weekday evening, and it was during the holidays (because one does not have an ‘I am finding my soul’ sit-down session in a classroom filled with noisy age mates, angry teachers and homework deadlines, that sort of shenanigans is solely reserved for the holidays).
Grabbing my journal (emphasis on journal, we grew out of diaries because they are uncool. Also, writing my feelings down is to establish the fact that I am dramatic) beginning to note down who I felt I was plus what I wanted to be.
Although I did not know it, this played an important role in realizing the path I want to take in this messy journey called life. In the angry fervor of noting how unfair life is to me, how I’m going to take control of my life (insert hard metal music to show teen angst). Realizing that this was what I wanted to do for the rest of my life, I wanted to write.
I cannot fully explain with words how this discovery made me feel (I would have shown you, unfortunately my life is not recorded and trailed after like reality TV shows, woes of the ordinary, I am no Kim Kardashian) but it hit me like a speeding truck. I had unknowingly unlocked it, the sought after purpose, I knew what I wanted to be.
Fortunately for me, I never questioned nor re-analyzed myself ; imagine the horror of suddenly realizing you want to be a magician after laboriously studying journalism, an actual tragedy. So I acknowledge to some degree that yes, I am living my teenage dream.