A year ago, I was in Washington DC on a school trip to NAIMUN, the National Model UN conference. The actual conference was of little importance to me and is not something I remember really specifically except for noting that I spoke very little and realized there were people in the world thousands of times nerdier and more ambitious than I will ever be.
Romantically, I like to think of that weekend as the time I really started to change, I felt like I was growing up and accepting all the negativity in my life and trying to move past it. I'd had a difficult beginning of senior year. I had recently lost a friendship with the only person who actually understood me. I blamed myself and I generally wanted my life at Groton to end as quickly as possible to escape the idea that I had driven away the one person I loved the most. (I use love in a very broad sense that is not necessarily romantic in any way). In February, I was shedding layers of naïveté, agonizing about not getting into my first choice college and worrying that all my friendships hung on a weak tether that I could easily demolish with my next mistake.
Depression was settling in, poised to ruin my grades, my friendships and my final semester at Groton. My remaining friends opinions about my ruined friendship were not in my favor, although I appreciated their feeble attempts to disguise the fact that they believed I deserved what happened (or at the very least they were not surprised). It's very difficult to be surrounded by people and to be unsure of whether or not they care about you, or worse, to know that they care about you and they are still capable of thinking you are wrong. It involves truly acknowledging the fact that you need to change the way you live your life and acknowledging the fact that maybe you are not as perfect or amazing as you think you should be.
Last year, I believed that I became friends with someone who "saved" me from myself as well as from the idea that nobody could like me. Looking back, I'm not exactly sure if that is an accurate image of what was going on. Do we need other people to save us from ourselves? What is the point of exposing yourself: fears, desires, worries and secrets? If a relationship or a friendship has ended, did it mean nothing?
If I use practicality and maturity to assess my relationships with people throughout the past, it is easy for me to answer some of these questions. Of course, the end of a friendship doesn't mean that this friendship meant nothing. Of course we don't need people, but it's okay to want them in your life. In reality, I am far less logical than this. I am driven by impulse, my emotions fueled by the repercussions of my mistakes. Impure, idiotic, childish and cynical, I cannot genuinely force myself to accept what I logically realize is the truth. It's easier to just say "It meant nothing" or "I don't need anyone at all". Pessimistic mantras keep up the appearance of sanity but merely conceal a rather chaotic interior.
A year ago, I believed that I needed to be saved. I was emotionally vulnerable in every way. One of my friends who did Model UN with me helped me get over a lot of my residual anxieties regarding my relationships with my remaining friends, other people around me and the constant guilt I continued to feel for estranging my best friend.
This was the point where I began to see the value in two things. The first thing was the value of opening up to unexpected people. The second was the value of actively trying to change the way I viewed the world. It's weird to think that putting real, active thought into growing up happened halfway through my senior year of high school, and was mostly inspired by someone younger (and far wiser) than I was. I especially find it difficult to accept that negative events can catalyze growing up and becoming a smarter person. However, growing up can happen anytime and sometimes a shock is what we need to kickstart us into adulthood.
About a year ago, I began to really understand what I wanted out of my friends and social interactions in general. I like to think I gave up a certain degree of selfishness and attempted to cater more to the needs of friends and acquaintances alike. I find it weird that I can pinpoint the exact time (almost down to the exact weekend) when I began to really think about the way I was living and how I related to other people. I'm sure on some level that everyone can do this, and if they can't, there is always time for introspection. I wish that I didn't need to lose what I cared about in order to re-evaluate myself, but I accept that I am to blame, and my guilt will always be my burden. It's important to remember that nothing lasts forever, but if there is someone irreplaceable in your life, make sure that you are doing everything in your power to keep them close. Properly acknowledging your shortcomings and imperfections will not make you less of a person, but may actually help you to have the life that you want.
Romantically, I like to think of that weekend as the time I really started to change, I felt like I was growing up and accepting all the negativity in my life and trying to move past it. I'd had a difficult beginning of senior year. I had recently lost a friendship with the only person who actually understood me. I blamed myself and I generally wanted my life at Groton to end as quickly as possible to escape the idea that I had driven away the one person I loved the most. (I use love in a very broad sense that is not necessarily romantic in any way). In February, I was shedding layers of naïveté, agonizing about not getting into my first choice college and worrying that all my friendships hung on a weak tether that I could easily demolish with my next mistake.
Depression was settling in, poised to ruin my grades, my friendships and my final semester at Groton. My remaining friends opinions about my ruined friendship were not in my favor, although I appreciated their feeble attempts to disguise the fact that they believed I deserved what happened (or at the very least they were not surprised). It's very difficult to be surrounded by people and to be unsure of whether or not they care about you, or worse, to know that they care about you and they are still capable of thinking you are wrong. It involves truly acknowledging the fact that you need to change the way you live your life and acknowledging the fact that maybe you are not as perfect or amazing as you think you should be.
Last year, I believed that I became friends with someone who "saved" me from myself as well as from the idea that nobody could like me. Looking back, I'm not exactly sure if that is an accurate image of what was going on. Do we need other people to save us from ourselves? What is the point of exposing yourself: fears, desires, worries and secrets? If a relationship or a friendship has ended, did it mean nothing?
If I use practicality and maturity to assess my relationships with people throughout the past, it is easy for me to answer some of these questions. Of course, the end of a friendship doesn't mean that this friendship meant nothing. Of course we don't need people, but it's okay to want them in your life. In reality, I am far less logical than this. I am driven by impulse, my emotions fueled by the repercussions of my mistakes. Impure, idiotic, childish and cynical, I cannot genuinely force myself to accept what I logically realize is the truth. It's easier to just say "It meant nothing" or "I don't need anyone at all". Pessimistic mantras keep up the appearance of sanity but merely conceal a rather chaotic interior.
A year ago, I believed that I needed to be saved. I was emotionally vulnerable in every way. One of my friends who did Model UN with me helped me get over a lot of my residual anxieties regarding my relationships with my remaining friends, other people around me and the constant guilt I continued to feel for estranging my best friend.
This was the point where I began to see the value in two things. The first thing was the value of opening up to unexpected people. The second was the value of actively trying to change the way I viewed the world. It's weird to think that putting real, active thought into growing up happened halfway through my senior year of high school, and was mostly inspired by someone younger (and far wiser) than I was. I especially find it difficult to accept that negative events can catalyze growing up and becoming a smarter person. However, growing up can happen anytime and sometimes a shock is what we need to kickstart us into adulthood.
About a year ago, I began to really understand what I wanted out of my friends and social interactions in general. I like to think I gave up a certain degree of selfishness and attempted to cater more to the needs of friends and acquaintances alike. I find it weird that I can pinpoint the exact time (almost down to the exact weekend) when I began to really think about the way I was living and how I related to other people. I'm sure on some level that everyone can do this, and if they can't, there is always time for introspection. I wish that I didn't need to lose what I cared about in order to re-evaluate myself, but I accept that I am to blame, and my guilt will always be my burden. It's important to remember that nothing lasts forever, but if there is someone irreplaceable in your life, make sure that you are doing everything in your power to keep them close. Properly acknowledging your shortcomings and imperfections will not make you less of a person, but may actually help you to have the life that you want.
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