Pieces Of Me [an online journal of sorts]

Entry Forty-eight: resolution

Today marks the anniversary of my first ever Pieces Of Me entry, and if you had told me a year ago I would be writing the forty-seven entries prior to this one, I wouldn't have believed you.

There are very few periods of my life that could compare to the misery I went through this past year. I'd never been more insecure, self-destructive, disconsolate, and dispirited in my entire fifteen years and eight months of living, and I think you can see that when you read my journal entries. I did so myself, several times, in fact. But, strangely enough, I truly believe that 2013 has been one of the best years of my life.

I remember exactly one year ago when I decided, I would become someone different, someone who's prettier, smarter, more confident and outgoing. You know, New Year, New Me kind of thing. And, for a while, that's all I strived towards, except, somewhere along the way, I kind of forgot why I wanted to be prettier, smarter, more confident and outgoing. I lost sight of what was important. I lost sight of myself, as cliche as it may sound. I'd singlehandedly broken my self-esteem and shattered every hope and dream I'd ever had in the process of me trying to become this fantasy version of myself that I held up on a pedestal. I'd broken my own heart and soul trying to fix what was on the outside, and that's where I went wrong.

I wanted to be confident, but I'd ended up shrinking whatever confidence I'd had before into a minuscule speck that, paradoxically, managed to weigh me down day after day, somehow convinced that maybe if I lost a little weight and fixed my face with make-up, I'd magically turn into this fearless goddess who had no qualms with striking up conversations with strangers and conquering every obstacle set in her way. I was wrong of course, and deeply miserable as well. You don't have to be thin and beautiful to be strong. You need to be self-assured, comfortable in your own skin and flesh, fully aware that although you might not be the smartest or the prettiest, you are entitled to love yourself, with all your quirks and flaws.

That's another thing I learned this year: we are all flawed. As obvious as it may be, I didn't fully realize it until recently. Human beings are complex creatures, an interesting mixture of flaws and strengths and good and bad. If you truly love someone, you will accept them wholly, the light and dark parts of them, regardless of how prominent the latter part might be.

That's when I knew: I didn't love myself, not at all.

I hated that I was shy; I hated my mood swings; I hated that I could never put my trust into people, not completely; I hated that I was an appalling blend of narcissistic and insecure and cynical; I hated that I was indecisive; I hated that I was so, so afraid.

But now I've realized that some of those facts might never change, and they're a part of who I am, but I also realize there's no harm in trying to better myself, this time from the inside out. I need to learn to accept myself.

I want to be brave.

If this were last year, I would've said I wanted to be fearless, overly-confident. Now I know it's impossible to become fearless, and even if it were, it would do me more harm than good. I want to be brave because it takes strength to make a decision you're afraid of more than it does when that fear doesn't exist in the first place. And that's why I want to be brave so badly. You're scared, but you muster up the courage to make your choices anyway. You put matters into your own hands and refuse to be paralyzed by your own doubts.

I have social anxiety, but I won't let that keep me from interacting with people; I'm afraid of what the future holds, but that won't stop me from looking up universities and making plans for what I want to do in the next two, five, ten years; I'm insecure about my writing, but that won't hold me back from sharing it with the people in my life.

The point is: I refuse to be handicapped by my own fears and insecurities.


Another strange thing that came to light this past year is this: you choose your own family.

In my opinion, family isn't about blood-relations. It's about who makes you the happiest, who brings out the best in you and accepts the worst of you, and who makes you the best you you could possibly be. And, to me, my friends are my family. I love them and they love me, with no shared DNA forcing them to, which, to me, is kind of a big deal because I'm not exactly the most open, lovable person around. But they accept me, and they don't make me feel like I'm this insignificant thing that's just there, with no voice, no thoughts, and no feelings. I can never tell you the exact number of times my own family has made me feel this way, but I am grateful that my friends don't. Plus, I somehow managed to gain many friends this previous year despite my social handicap, some of which closer than most but precious all the same. (If you're reading this, secret, I hope you know how much you really mean to me, although we don't talk everyday and I never really let you in.)

You know what I also learned in the past year?

Whether you're happy or sad, it's your choice. You choose to make the best of your situation or to bring the world's weight down on your shoulders, and, for a long time, I didn't understand this. I was making myself miserable trying to make myself happy. Now I know that I shouldn't be too hard on myself. I've always despised people who act cruel and hateful towards others, never realizing that I was one of them. I hated them for being unkind towards other human beings, but I'm a human being too. I deserve to be treated kindly, even by my own self. Same goes if you're being treated badly by others. You can always choose to stop that, whether by confronting them about it, or distancing yourself from the bullying. No one deserves to feel like they're worthless because of something someone else said, no matter who they are.

This past year holds a great place in my heart because, somewhere along those twelve months, as I stumbled and fell to my knees, I learned how to get back up again.

I now know what and who really matters to me. I know not to take things for granted. I know when to slow down and give myself a break. I know not to be afraid of taking risks. I know that I always have a choice, and I should always choose what makes me happy. I know that true, good friends, although not essential to my living, are essential to my happiness. I know that my mistakes don't matter as much as how I recover and learn from them.

I did a lot of growing up in the past three-hundred-sixty-five days, something that I wouldn't have managed to do without the help of my frequent mistakes, my friends, and lots and lots of hours spent on book-reading and self-reflecting. I am grateful for each and every memory that was formed in the folds of 2013, even more so for the lessons learned. I only hope that 2014 holds more of these cherished memories and lessons, and I plan on making it my best year yet.

The year I become brave.