If you had told me I’d be happy living in a big city, I wouldn’t have agreed.
“No, no.” I’d laugh. “I’m a mountain girl. I’d never move to a big, dirty city. I need to be close to nature, elevated.”
But sometimes I sit and look at the city skyline and I think that I’ve never seen something so exhilarating.
And if you had told me that I would let another guy break my heart, I would have told you that you’re wrong.
“No, no.” I’d say. “I’m smarter now. I’m done falling for guys who will only push me away.”
But still, here we are again. And as much as I try to ignore the self-pitying thoughts, I can hear them, sometimes, lurking in the back of my head. Whispering: “You’re just not enough.”
And if you had told me that I would love this job that I stumbled into, I would be very skeptical.
“No, no.” I would tell you. “I am going to be a writer, an editor, a publisher. This is just a stepping stone. I’ll be out of here in a year or so.”
Yet, here I am, somehow happy, with no plans to leave. Feeling smarter, more useful and more confident in my abilities than I ever have before.
And if you had told me that I would learn to survive another lost love, I’d probably just shake my head.
“No, no.” I might whisper. “I’ve been here before. This is going to hurt.”
And yet, I feel okay. Because, as strange as it is to say, I can feel something shifting within me. Even with those small voices, there is a louder voice that’s telling me I already know my worth.
A voice that is pushing the others aside, telling me that maybe, just maybe, I really have learned my lesson this time.
If you had asked me, years ago, what my life would look like, I’d tell you all about it. I would tell you about my plans to take a break right after school. I would tell you that I never planned to get a 9-5 job. I would tell you that I’d meet the love of my life in college, just like my parents did, and my sister, and my brother. I would tell you that I was going to write a book before the age of 25. I would tell you about my plans to live in France. I would paint the whole picture for you; paint you a beautiful picture of the life I imagined.
And all of that would be wrong.
But the truth of what my life is now, well that’s what has turned out to be exactly right.
It all tends to come together, doesn’t it? Whether by luck, or fate, or pure personal volition. And perhaps it’s only something you can really see in hindsight, because in the moment, in the twists and turns of life, it can be painful.
Year by year, life surprises me. It never has gone exactly according to plan.
And that’s because even when we think we do know, we don’t. We never truly can. We never really will. Even sure bets fall through. Even forever doesn’t last forever.
So maybe it just takes a little bit of trust. Trust that the life you are living is the life you were meant to. Because this life is beautiful, even in all of the ways that it runs off track.
And trust that you’ll be alright, because trust me my dear, you will be.