Growth Is Painful

I am crying my eyes out right now. It is not because someone broke my heart or backstabbed me, No! I am crying waterfalls because I just realized growing up can be so painful.

I have been someone who cannot stay put in one place, job or interest for long. I get excited about someone, something or someplace like a little girl’s first trip to disneyland but this ecstacy soon fades away like melted cotton candy. If it was upto me, I would spend the rest of my life excited about the next new experience and the next without a care in the world. I would not be committed to anything too difficult or monotonous and I would jump, like a frog, from one thing to another until my last breath. But I can’t.

The choices I made bound me mercilessly like some prisoner on a life sentence. I chose law, graduated after almost being sure I wasn’t going to. I then took a break from studying under the excuse of getting work experience, when it was really me quitting this whole legal business and hoping to land a job doing nothing legal. I landed that job, but it was everything to do with law. So law became this clingy ex-girlfriend who couldn’t register the fact that I just didn’t want her anymore. I gave up fighting and just when I was starting to enjoy my job, it turned out it wasn’t interesting anymore and work became too boring and stressful to even try. Plus, it didn’t help that my position was only temporary lasting only until the project I was working on was completed. So instead of waiting to be bid good bye, I tensed up and made another dumb attempt at making up with my ex, by going back to advocate training program. It was something only couples who break up and make up a gazillion times would understand; no matter how many times you make up, it would not delete the reason why you broke up. As long as it is the same people involved, there is always going to be that elephant in the room; we are just not compatible! And that is me, with my girlfriend, law.

To be honest, my girlfriend is not bad at all! There were moments I felt guilty for resenting her the way I have. She is someone many people admire as prestigious and noble. Some of the people I know, secretly wish they had had her. It is an ego boost just to be connected to her and her status. Only those who are seen as smart and intelligent can claim her, but why do I feel so smothered by her? Why am I crying because of her? Well, it is simple, she might be all of that to everyone else, but to me she has been like A Nightmare on Elm Street; my worst horror movie experience when I was a child.

She has demanded many precious years of my life in what seems like an endless race to the non-existent finish line. She has forced me to stay up and read uninteresting and tasteless statutes which sucked the life out of my creativity. She challenged me to face exams after exams after exams. Even right now as I write this, I have to suffer rising levels of panic and anxiety for oral exams, which is all everyone in school talks and freaks about. That is why I cry. I cry because I have to suffer my worst case of anxiety and depression since I was born, for something which does not even tug at my heart strings; something so rigid and bland like frozen carrots. I could be elsewhere right now, writing my first novel, making and acing reading goals where I read dozens of books I ENJOY every day of my life. I could be spending my days, inspired by that fresh and salty sea breeze sweeping across my face on the beach or that calm rippling of the sea, with a playful swoosh swooshing back and forth of the peaceful waves breaking by the shore. I could be somewhere writing about ideas and philosophy of life, describing the other-wordly feeling of being in love , or sharing jewel pieces of wisdom from my own experiences in life. I could be taking pictures with my Sony Handycam of everything and everyone that spiked an inspiration for a feeling or an idea and went with that for my next blog and the next. In those lucky days where I could travel, I would write about my adventures abroad and hold them dear to my heart.

Why am I here instead? Watching myself become more and more miserable as I lie to myself each day that today will be better, today I will get some reading done on that daunting pile of statutes or law books, which already gave up on me a long time ago. Is keeping on going like this, what is referred to as growing up? Is this what it means to take responsibility for my life, and for all the money my dad spent to take me through school? If pushing on despite the urge to give up is what growth means, then it is indeed painful!

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