I’ve just seen this vlog of this family that has moved from Nairobi. And my heart is so full. Like I can almost feel what they are feeling even though I’m not the one making such moves.
For most of my life, my struggles were centered around being alive. Or trying to be truly alive. Trying to get myself out of depression, out of not wanting to live. Healing from childhood trauma and just trying to figure out who I am minus all that suffering and bad experiences.
And then I got to a place where I kinda could live my life on my own terms. For once I could decide where to live, what sort of activities to take part in, what to do with my free time. I think financial stability was a life saver for me. Something like a yoke had been lifted. Now I was dependent on myself.
That was and still is freeing, but it came with it’s own set of problems especially at the beginning. Things like not being able to pay my own school fees and knowing that there is no one I can ask for money from was extremely scarring. It left me feeling so damn horrible. That now I’m supposed to take care of myself, but I can’t do the essentials?
And that was my welcome into adulthood. Into realising that patience isn’t just a virtue, it’s a necessity. And unlike before when saying “things will always work out” was more of an affirmation, now it’s a lived reality. Something I have to trust if I am sleep well.
Along the way I have learnt to relax. To let go of anxiety. Of holding my life too tightly, as if afraid of letting it unfold, because what if it hurts?
And weirdly enough my ‘motto’ for this year was just to live. To not hustle after anything. To stand on sure ground. Like to almost fall into a routine. Go to the gym, hike mountains, meet my friends, go watch awesome plays, go to events, take myself to Uganda, see the top of Mount Kenya and just part myself on the back for living. For being alive. Truly.
It was that year that’s supposed to be a reset button. A transition from having struggled mentally, to relaxing into life. From having always ran, to actually enjoying the journey. To just breathing in the flowers. To asking myself if what I have always wanted for life still holds water. And to allowing myself to move in to new chapters.
And maybe that’s what year 25 is all about for me. Moving from one level to the next. Mentally, emotionally and psychologically.
Realising that life is for the living.
And in its own twisted way, 2020 has actualised my dream of being alive. Of feeling alive. And of resetting my life. Like I can say this has been my best year yet. Mentally, emotionally. I am happy. So damn happy. I haven’t hiked as much as I wanted but I have seen hills upon hills in beautiful lands.
And though it’s been a mental struggle for a while there, I can say that I feel the new level coming in quite nicely.
And I have the opportunity to dream again. To choose again what I want to do with life, and go after it, gently and surely. Life is beckoning me to go back to it’s shelves, and not be afraid to want.
It is reminding me that I have never fit in, and I won’t. That I have always been a pacesetter for things, and the trend remains. That I will probably never get into a comfort zone. Where I don’t want to experience my soul in different ways. That I am not too young. That I am not too old.
And it is so damn exciting to have your heart jump at something. When you see something and it resonates so well with your soul. And you know instinctively that you want that. That that’s your heart’s desire.
I love life. I love being alive. And for the first in my life, I would rather be alive, than dead. I want to see my dreams unfold. But before that, I want to dream. To take a walk and see the beauty of the weird things I want in my mind, and to start working towards them.
This life is for the living. And I am glad to be alive. Truly, hope gives life.