It was under the hot, steamy pressure of the shower head that it got too heavy for me. I stepped out of the bathroom in a towel, soggy and sobbing in the middle of the living room.
About a month before college graduation, and I didn't know how to measure my life anymore. No more semesters, credits, guidance or four-year increments. My roommate cooed and consoled me, but I felt like I was drowning and I’ve been treading water ever since.
I reached out at any new life plan I could find. I got an internship. I moved home. I started school again. Then quit. I got shitty jobs. The only other constant besides school was the boyfriend and suddenly he was gone too. I partied. I distracted myself with ill-matched suitors. I splashed around and devised a plan.
I had support and love from my family and a friend, which were the best things I could’ve had. Even as the plan started to come to life, I felt far away as my Florida born and raised mouth formed the words, “I’m moving to California.”
I was going. That was it. I didn’t know if I would find a job or an apartment, to be honest I felt like I was watching it all happen from the outside, so I wasn’t even sure I was actually going. But I did. I went. I’m here. Almost a year later and I’m still here.
I’ve learned a great deal about myself. My taste in food, wine, clothing and people has changed. I’ve never seen so many hills, buildings or people who care so passionately about anything before. There are so many things about this place that make me feel alive, but I’m still struggling.
It’s been kind of blurry, but there are moments of clarity where I come up long enough to take a breath. Just when I think I’m there, though, I get pulled back under.
I’m closer to where I want to be than I’ve ever been before. I know the things I’m passionate about, but I don’t know what to do with them or how. The breaths that gave me bubbly insides, like the job that was going to launch my career and the relationship that was going to change my thought patterns, were dead ends.
It seems like my pruny fingers should’ve grasped onto something by now, but my expectations might just be too high. Maybe I’m not ready to graduate from this transitional period early. Maybe I’ll figure it out in 2015 after I’ve given it a solid four years.
I’m tired and my muscles are fatigued, but I’m not ready to stop paddling. In the meantime I’ll just try to relax. Maybe that’s all I need to do to stay afloat.