It's 2:45 am Spain time, and I'm not awake because I was out partying up at some grand fiesta. Quite the opposite really. My insomnia is certainly caused by my 11:30 pm coffee drinking due to the need to cease my brief period of productivity, and is also definitely induced by my racing mind that absolutely refuses to quit tackling all of the issues of life...at 2:45 am.
However, this restless mind of mine has made itself quite cozy in my sleep routine lately. Like any normal person, this happens to me regularly. But usually my mind is filled with to-do lists and is reviewing the events of the day. For the last couple of nights this hasn't been the case though. It's down to the wire in Spain, 16 days to be exact, and all sorts of new reflections are constantly entering my mind screaming, "Hi, hey, analyze me to no avail!" So I do, and here I am during the wee hours of the morning doing so.
Over the last four months these sometimes pesky, reoccurring reflective thoughts have consisted of varying themes. Everything from my relationship with Christ, to love, to what love means, to why I'm here, to why do I have no self-control with food (that's an all-the-time thing), to jobs, to time management, to what am I doing with my life, to family, to friends, to what's causing the weird rash on my legs, to church, to finances, to why do I often miss my dog more than people, to why do I still worry with God on my side, to why do I have the attention span of a gnat, to how I can better serve others in my life, to why has Spain made my face an oil rig and my hair feel like straw, to anything else completely random and ridiculous yet relevant. Almost every single one of these things run through my mind at least once a day. However, tonight my racing mind focused one principal theme, fear.
As I laid in my little, Spanish bed, it really struck me how much fear I harbor inside of me without ever really admitting it to myself. One of my most prominent fears, and one of my biggest pride-busters, is that I've realized that I'm scared of growing up.
I'm 21 years old, and ever since I can remember I've been very independent and as years have passed pretty darn responsible. Frankly, I can't recall a time where I didn't feel like at least somewhat of an adult, and I've embraced that. After coming to that realization, I concluded that my fear doesn't stem from the greater responsibilities that lay ahead, nor not depending on others. It is founded in my fear of an independent identity. Instead of a self that is almost solely defined by the likes of those around me, the opinions they hold, and a past that's often defined me, I have a kind of yearning for an identity that is self-expressive, a mind that has formed opinions and beliefs of its own, and sense of self that isn't petrified of the opinions that loved ones or strangers cast upon it. It's something that does holds close to some aspects of who I am, but is shaped by and created new by God's transforming love and grace. Creating and discovering this sense of self that is a life-long process and is never complete. However, I don't want to miss out on the adventure simply because I'm fearful of what others think.
And after all of this runs through my now exhausted mind, I still finally feel like I'm ready let go until I realize that there is another hindrance...This is is almost cliche fear of my choices.
This fear to the average Joe is known as making mistakes. For the optimistic, it's a new learning opportunity. And to the perfectionists it's known as the screwing-up-my-life-forever-and-nothing-will-ever-be-okay-ever-again.. It's double jeopardy and you have thirty seconds to guess which category I fall into. What is perfectionists, Alex. Correct!
Like I said before, I'm 21-years-young, the so-called peak of life. Unless you have the fear of a two-year-old and the thought process of the parent of the two-year-old. I rarely do anything that would seem to be the norm for a 21-year-old. Now don't get me wrong, I'm not a complete snore. I have this desire to be spontaneous and to build a life that isn't so everyday. However, I have the fear of screwing everything up. The fear that if I take some sort of chance or chase some crazy dream, big or small, that my world will come crashing down. That my bank account will be empty, an angry mob will be outside of my apartment with pitchforks, and that the apocalypse will officially commence. It's a little bit like Chicken Little, just a little. And what's been racing through my mind these past few nights is the question of why I put myself through this. I live this life once. Why should I rob myself of meeting as many people as possible, learning as much as I can, and finding enjoyment in the unlikeliest of places. It finally struck me when it comes to taking these chances, the only truly detrimental possible outcomes are A) not doing it or B) regret.
Now this doesn't mean that I'm going to throw responsibility and common sense out the window and let live my life by the seat of my pants. But it does mean that I've really began to see how fleeting life is. It's something you hear for your entire life, but oftentimes don't listen to until it's too late. I want to be able to look back on my life and be able to say, I was who I am, I gave it all that I got, and I lived it to the best that I could.
And now that all of this is off my chest and now on paper, well kind of, it's time for me to go back to my little Spanish bed and pray about where to start and to dream of what can happen when I listen and follow.
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