I admit, I held on to my childhood as long as I could. It’s been a struggle allowing myself to growing up and now I have entered in the phase called aging. I still see myself as a young lady, although you have to be over 50 to refer to me as such. I often get the question if I have children, I think to myself, “Do I look old enough to have children?!” *Crying emoji.
I am now understanding why make-up was invited, I am noticing my face change and often wonder if there is anything I can do to prevent my fate. How do I stop time? It took me years to find myself beautiful, and now its fading away right before my eyes. I should have been more thankful when I was a teenager, instead of being worried about pimples.
I am a deep creative, I shouldn’t care or spend time on such shallow things. As a person whose twenties was documented on social media, I can scroll through my profile photos and witness the camera get further and further away.
I am a sucker for looking at the past with the soft filter on.
2001, The world was changing, America had faced a turning point and I, myself was facing my own end of the world moment. I had been dumped by a boy who I thought I would spend my life with. He was the one who told me my dreams were impossible, and now he was no longer in my life to talk me out of being who I wanted to become. I was left alone with my faith in God, a few friends, and my art. I went to college because there was nothing else to do. The plan was to get married and have children right after high school, since I had no potential future husbands in line, I went to college to become a junk mail graphic designer. It wasn’t until I started to believe what God said, “All things are possible for those who believe” did my life turn into something better than I could have planned.
I often took the song lyric from Creep by Radiohead pretty seriously in my twenties to help me make any major decisions.
The line, “What the hell am I doing here? I don’t belong here” was my compass. I often felt out-of-place, so feeling in place was very noticeable.
When I got my first professional job as an intern with Warner Brother, I was asked what I wanted to do after the program. I knew I didn’t belong with the department as a graphic designer, so I told them I was going back to school to become an editor. When I moved to Australia to edit with Hillsong, I often grew home sick. I would answer the Radiohead song, “Yes. God sent me, I belong here.” It was only when the job fell through did I take that as a sign to go back home. When I moved back to California it took me months to figure out the next step. I would cry out to God kicking and screaming that I don’t belong in San Bernardino. When I was going to move to Vancouver, I sat in the coffee shop realizing, it wasn’t the place for me. I had a life back home that was full of grace, I returned to my old job in a new position as the video department director. When I met this deep mysterious boy with long hair I had no idea if I belonged with him but knew I enjoyed his company. It was when he comforted me during a hard season, I knew he was who I belonged with.
Every obstacle, struggle, and victory is indeed worth the annoying lines on my face. I may be aging, for I always was, but it doesn’t mean I can’t keep my youthful heart that still believes, all things are possible.