deciphering the days

Okay. Here I am. Still trying to KonMari my belongings (check out my earlier post about the KonMari adventure for the back story). I have mostly figured out how it should feel when I am done, if I have KonMari-ed correctly. It has happened before. Like once. Maybe twice. The sentimental items are really getting to me. And I think I figured out why. I am not particularly satisfied with my childhood. When in the eyes of the public, my family pretended to be something it was not. We were never a reflection of the portrayed image, never that I can recall. I remember my middle school and high school years - feeling very bored and lonely. I tried desperately to be like the other teenagers but never once by adding my own, original contributions. I wasn't simply trying to fit myself into their clubs, rather I was looking to groups for a definition of who I should be. I was trying to do that then, and I still am. I am trying to construct memories of a happy, social teenage life that did...

A friend of mine wrote this. It really struck home with me: "I am afraid of being vulnerable. That's why I am quiet all the time: it is not that I don't have anything to say, I could fill the void with words, I am afraid of what being honest might cause. I am afraid that if I told you what I think you would think I'm stupid. I'm afraid that if I told you what I feel you would reject me for feeling the wrong things . I'm afraid that if you knew the things I have done you wouldn't want to spend time with me. That's why I am always so measured, so quiet, only breaking the silence when I'm pretty sure I have something really good to say. That is why when I do speak it's so often sarcastic. Sarcasm is safe, it directs negative attention elsewhere and I can score points for being witty. By being sarcastic I don't reveal my true thoughts or feelings and so nothing precious to me can be used against me... I don't risk giving you anything tha...

So as many know, I just graduated with a chemistry degree and 3.7 something GPA. Many people in my life are not surprised. I, however, truly believed that I wouldn't get here. I am 'cleaning up' my computer and deleting the thousands of pictures and old, unread documents. I stumbled across some pre-college and early college writings... "I want to do well in school. I want to make people proud and live up to the expectations. Part of me feels like I am somehow lying to them because there are so many people who think I am so smart – book smart - and I really want to be. I want to be that person. But so often I am reminded that that is not me, or not by default. And I am concerned with what happens. I really want to do well. What If I don’t? So many people have put so much into me doing this and so much rides on it. If I don’t get this degree then what was the point of any of it? What will I do afterwards? ...I would be so ashamed to drop out of school and even to do...

Many of the stories I listen to or watch have a scene when the protagonist and side characters debate one's ability to choose . It goes something like this: "I had no choice!" "You always have a choice - you could have chosen differently!" "NO! You left me no other options - my hands were tied!" Etc., etc., you get the picture. So anyway. This has been on my mind a lot. Do we always have a choice? What about life and death choices that involve other people? Through my ponderings, I have come to a conclusion that we always have a choice but the darker conundrum is this: What freedom is found in a choice when we will be held captive by the consequences of that choice? Now I have no idea. I have just been contemplating this question for quite a while and that's all I have, but it has been on my heart and mind for a while so I put it in writing.