i blinked and suddenly, i am no longer 12, or 15, or 18. i am no longer a child.

I complain a lot. Awfully a lot for someone who hasn’t experienced much at all. May it be over something I cannot control, may it be about someone who has a mind of their own. Stepping into the 20’s club was a journey I never thought I’d get to experience ever. I never planned on living this long, but I guess it’s not too bad. You get your ups and downs, but everything matters, right? Could be for the better for or for the worse, but everything qualifies to be packed up to experience. On the brighter side, it's a more valid reason to complain.

Oh, 20. You’ve done a number on me. If I didn’t know better I wouldn’t have recognized the girl who I was before you. I blinked and suddenly I’m no longer a child. Suddenly, I’m dragging myself out of bed, making myself pretty to pretend like nothing ever fazes me, even if everything does—everything shakes my very being, but I’ve learned to never blink even when things go downhill. I’ve learned how to function even when I’m under the bus, getting drowned in the mud that I personally made myself. I’ve learned how to push through even through the moments that feel suffocating—even through moments that feel like it’s never going to end. I’ve learned how to let go of the heavy things, maybe even some of the pretty things that make my heart feel nice in the name of pushing through. I don’t know how to feel about it, it doesn’t feel fair that I still don’t have the best decision making skills and my judgment is still basically questionable, but hey, if I’m still here, maybe I’m still doing something right, no?

I could go on picking bones on every single questionable thing I’ve done during you, but this is an ode after all, so I will refrain. You’ve done good amid it all, I guess it’s only fair to tell you how proud I am of you. 6 months ago, you were told (by someone professional btw) that you were afraid of success, mostly because of the discomfort that it came with. While it’s already been years of fighting yourself, I’m glad you’re still winning. I’m glad that we’re still here. I’m glad you’re growing to be okay with the discomfort that life throws at you. You’re still shit at it, but you’re okay. You have people to hold on to. They want to be there for you, you need to stop gaslighting yourself that they don’t and that you don’t deserve them. It’s okay. It’s cheesy, but man, everything will be alright in time. You’ll figure it out eventually. 

Life didn’t stop when you were 15. It didn’t stop (in no particular order) when you failed your finals, or when flunked out of the dean’s list, or when you were in the brink of not finishing your thesis on time for the defense, or when some guy broke your heart, or when you physically didn’t walk the stage to deliver your high school speech that you dreamed of for 6 solid years, or when you didn’t get to your dream college—it didn’t stop even if you were too tired to think straight. Life didn’t stop at 15 and all of the other times you wish it would. So now you’re here, finally at 21. It’s not what you expected it to look like, but hey, it’s going to make sense in the long run. Just hold on. You have loved and lost and you’re going to feel more of those but it’s always better to love and have lost than to lose and never have loved at all. 

I told a friend once that I feel like drowning. I’m not underwater but I feel like I’m under the deep dark sea and I’m flailing my arms, wasting energy, like I’m instigating my own demise. Most times, I feel like I’m doing everything wrong. Most times, I feel like I’m an impostor in a room full of people who effortlessly succeeds and I’m just there because I managed to jest my way into the function. I constantly had to overwork, overstress and overthink just to prove that I will not choke and that I belong here. 

Fake it ‘till you make it, they said.

Can I finally say that?

Did I really make it?

Standing in front of our panel this afternoon, introducing our team, was definitely something I avoided doing because I had a tendency to choke and out of fear of becoming a laughing stock or humiliating my group, rejecting such parts was familiar to me—like a programmed reaction. And this isn’t the first time I rejected major roles, my therapist told me once that I, in fact, have a Jonah Complex (see? Psychology is all fun and games until a professional tells you that you are actually one of the things you’re studying lol). But that’s besides the point. (if my therapist finds this, i know she won’t but if she does, i’m so sorry :P) That information was made clear to me just over a year ago but I only got the chance to do something about it now, and I somehow did it without realizing it. Does it mean I’m getting better? Does it mean I’m different from who I was a year ago? I sure hope I am.

Because a year ago, I couldn’t even figure out how we were going to make it to the deadline. A year ago, I was sitting on my mom’s lap like a child crying about how terrified I am of getting delayed because of my thesis. But it’s here now. 

I didn’t understand anything after Congratulations, it all seemed like a blur. It didn’t feel real but it sure did feel like my head was above the surface for the first time after a while underwater, fighting the current, using all the energy I had to keep myself alive. It felt like the first gasp of air and everything just makes you feel glad that you still managed to make it out alive. I didn’t feel like a real person. I have never felt that kind of happiness in a while—the kind that isn’t fleeting or the kind that I’m not expecting to disappear after a few counts.

So, did I make it?

I’m not really sure. I’m not built to assume that I did. But what I am sure of is that as of right now, I don’t feel like I’m drowning anymore. I don’t feel like I’m fighting for survival. For the first time since we started this thesis, I don’t feel like I’m fighting for my place in the function. 

For the first time, I feel like I did something right.

I may be a little too old to realize this just now, but there are really good things that come off as scary at first. There are good things that come off as the most depressing shit you’ll ever encounter in your life. There are good things that will drag you through the mud first—but it will be good in the end. It will pay off and you would see what the agony had been for.