Becoming a member of society is a weird thing. One day your slugging jungle juice out of an old water bottle you pulled from the recycling bin, and the next your putting your “disposable” income into a low-risk ETF (both unfortunate realities of my life.)
I’ve been what people refer to as “adult” for 81 days now, and I’m deep in denial about letting my glorious college days go. It seems like it was just yesterday I was throwing up Mai Tais out of a slow moving Uber, feeling invincible and full of life. Now I look forward to getting home to watch my fish swim around her bowl and be in bed at a reasonable hour. I even complain about my noisy neighbors.
81 days doesn’t seem like that long in the big scheme of things. But it’s more than enough time to see yourself change into something new. Harvey Dent once spit out this hot bit of fire:
Anyways, I’ve been thinking about this quote a lot lately. And at least as it applies to my life, I think it’s wrong. I feel like I used to be the villain in my own story: close-minded, quick to judge and to anger, easily rattled and prone to violent takeovers of major U.S. cities using an army of misfits to do my bidding. Okay, maybe not that last one, but I was always really hard on myself and others to the point of self-sabotage.
Having become aware of this, I realized it’s about time I turn into the hero of my story. Don’t get me wrong, I still gawk at the wackos on the train, but now it’s more of a way to pass the time than to pass judgment. And I am still really hard on myself; I swear sometimes I pass a mirror and hear a voice telling me how gross I am, you know, Green Goblin style:
But I’ve started to learn that heroes don’t have to be perfect, they just need the deep desire to do good. And I want to do good for myself, because unless Batman comes to my rescue (which I’m totally okay with Christian Bale), I’m all I’ve got. So I’ve stopped letting my moods keep me from leaving bed. I’ve stopped letting the voices telling me I’m fat be fact rather than opinion. I’ve stopped letting the little shit things that happen in my day set me on a tailspin.
I’ve learned to laugh at the people on the train sighing heavily as we’re stopped for more police activity on the Red line instead of sighing along with them. I’ve found pure joy in the little things like seeing a bunny on my walk to the train or hearing a co-worker laugh at a joke I made.
And that’s not to say the old villainous me won’t come back with an army of new crazies holding baseball bats with nails sticking out of them to try to take down my morale. She’ll be back, probably sooner than I’m ready for. But I’ll be ready. Equipped with stuff like the ability to laugh off the stupid shit and a strong desire to be my own personal hero.
So I’ve changed, but I’m still me…I’ve evolved. From a wild Brittany with a meager CP of only 130 to a majestic Britachu with a fucking killer 893 CP (thanks Laurel for the cool new Pokemon name).
I will always be a sarcastic little shit. I will always find strength in cheese fries. And I will always fight an unseen battle between the person I am and the person depression and anxiety want me to be. But I now will be my own advocate and my own personal hero. And that, is a fucking dope benefit of evolution.