Star-Eyed

I'm in a tender development stage where I'm struggling to keep my eyes focused on the road ahead. I reflected this past weekend and realized that it's only been four years since I left Catholicism. In that time I've accepted two corporate jobs, moved three times, made some of the most authentic friendships of my life, traveled abroad, started podcasts, performed a stand-up comedy set, and explored my sexuality. 

The truth is though, this isn't good enough. I wish I had spent the first 26 years of my life doing these things. I wish I had started younger and gotten into the film industry as an actor/performer/singer/public speaker/writer. Now I'm 30 and it feels so late in the game. The game. What game? See that's the problem. The world creates this game in our minds, as if there's some place we need to be in our career at some age. 

But still. I can't help feeling a deep, deep regret for time poorly spent—time I will never get back. And the crazy thing is, there's not a fucking thing I can do about it. I can't erase history. I can try to tell myself, "All of these things made me who I am today," but that feels like putting a bandaid on a tumor. 

I need to spend more time connected with this negative feeling that so I can forgive myself for the choices I've made, but maybe this is something I will never fully process. I keep looking back at that star-eyed kid who had it all figured out. The kid who was going to be a priest and "save souls". The kid who believed he would go to heaven when he died. The kid who was so confident onstage and impressive to his friends and family. The hero-kid (trust me, I'm positive I've idealized this kid a lot).

That kid is dead, and now an uncertain, fragile adult is filling shoes that just don't fit right. This adult feels disturbed and anxious and afraid. This adult has shifted value paradigms and is caught between excitement/wonder and deep regret/paralysis (am I making the right choice?). This new space feels like pressing on the gas pedal while tar holds the car wheels in place. Every step forward is hard, and no one but me can appreciate it. No one but me knows how troublesome this new space has been. Others can cheer me on, but they can never fully "get it". 

So while I'm proud of the progress I've made, I'm not proud of how slow it's been. I see myself changing though. Each painful step forward empowers me. I'm choosing this path for my life. Yes, I have regrets. Yes, progress is slow because my bravery muscles are weak. I'm choosing to keep my eyes on the road ahead to pursue the life that will mean the most to me. I no longer want to "save souls". I want to save my own soul from a life full of regret. I want to save my own heart from friends who weigh me down or belittle me. I want to save my mind from despair.

At the end of the day, this is my life, and only I will be able to judge myself for how I lived it. And to be honest, this regret is good in some sense. If I had no regrets, it would mean I never learned a thing.

The future is uncertain; but it always has been, at all times, for all people. I'm excited to be here, despite mixed emotions and moments of doubt and chaos. My younger self, that star-eyed kid I idealize, is proud of me and cheering me on. I'm not at all who I thought I would be at this age. I'm no hero, and I'm happy I'm not trying to live up to that standard anymore. I'm just me, and that's my bliss.