The Boxes in the Basement...

So as I was readying myself for the move from my small hometown to the big windy city last night, I decided to go through some boxes of old stuff of mine I'd packed up and stored in our basement. It's not a new exercise. It tends to be one that I do everytime I come home for an extended stay. Each time, I find more things that I can part with, more things that aren't so important as they were 1 year, 2 years, even 10 years ago, but also things that remain so very dear to me year after year. It's almost like a therapy for me, a re-evaluation of myself-who I've been, where I want to go- and a nice little walk down memory lane all at once.

This time was no different. I actually parted with more things (yes, little big brother I got rid of things! :D haha) than I ever have. I'm really trying to realize what I really need in my life and what I don't both material and immaterial. But, don't fret, I didn't throw out everything (far from it actually). There were of course old t-shirts to save from H.S. & college that I want made into a blankets, pictures, and the twig 'necklace holder' my 8-year-old brother made me so many years ago, and then there is always that long lost treasure. That something that you don't even remember keeping, even though you know you've been through those boxes 3 time before. It can be anything-a note from a grade school crush, those mardi gras beads you saved from that spring break in Daytona, or a picture of you and your best friend in beginning band uniforms you didn't know you had. These rediscovered moments of your life resonant stronger than anything, and you're suddenly more aware of the places you've been, where you are, and where you want to go.

This time around I ran across an old creative writing journal from my junior year of high school. I knew I'd kept papers and things, but I hadn't really remembered this. Naturally, I thumbed through the now decade old pages. There were silly entries about my cat, colors of the rainbow, and my name. But I also came across more serious ones:  a poem I wrote right after the September 11th attacks, an entry dealing with the grief of losing a fellow teammate and friend much too soon, and an entry about life---advice about it and where I saw myself at 30. It was quite strange reading these bits authored by my 16-year-old self. Where I saw myself at 30 (now only 4 years away) gave me crazy goosebumps for several different reasons, and my advice to others is something I've been striving to live by...only I don't remember knowing it so soon! I wrote on Dec. 5th, 2001 "Life is what you make it. Reach high, dream big, and you will go far in life. Your family and friends will always be there for you, so don't be afraid of making a mistake." Great advice to live by....my only question: why then did I live in fear of failure so long during my adolescent/young adult years?

Maybe it's possible I didn't quite understand the meaning of my own words yet. By this I mean the extent of the definition. Yes, I've always been up to the challenge of the classroom and participating in other activities. But there are other areas of life that I've even recently discovered my own fear of failure. I won't specify exactly what, but I realized that this fear also applies to all aspects of your personal life. I think that this fear of failure happens here largely in part to the way society pushes us to morph our own thoughts and ideas as to not step on toes or anger other parties. We shouldn't live life in fear that way. It only ends in regret of things left unsaid. I hate that...regret. I vowed years ago I would live my life without it, and I've done well since up until this point. That little journal entry from  10 years ago, no more than a child myself, spoke volumes to me last night. I pride myself on living without fear, but realize that I've been neglecting it in some areas of my life. I'm done with that now. If you don't like what I have to say. Sorry. It probably means we weren't supposed to be friends anyway, and I'm ok with that....you should be too.