Emily

An essay about remembering who you are

I have this overwhelming faith that everything is going to work out for me, but more on that later. 

During times of high stress I have found I sometimes cope by going through periods where I forget who I am. Not literally. But who I am in my soul. I don’t realize it is happening until my body gets so tired of being untrue to myself that it feels like I wake up from some sort of trance. It’s then that I realize I have been chasing an image and version of myself that doesn’t actually align with who I am, who I want to be, or what I believe. And, if you haven’t caught on already, today I woke up. 

I began writing this essay after going up to my roof at 7AM on Labor Day when I literally woke up earlier than expected, fueled by the hangxiety of drinking too many Surfsides the night before. My brain exploded with all of the things I “should” do, all the what if’s, and guesses about the things other people have said and done and what it all might mean. And then I asked myself why. Why do I care about any of that? And I couldn’t come up with a good answer, and I thought about my sister

She came into my life when I was eleven or twelve. She was nine, maybe? So much life has happened since Emily that I forget her and her mom were not around for all of it. 

For the past year or so, we have been talking a lot about the idea of living slower. Not feeling the need to rush through life. Not buying into the hustle and grind culture. Trusting that everything will work out the way it is supposed to. Focusing on just being ourselves. Conversations that started after Emily came home from California for one of the longest stretches of time since she had moved out there for college. I had just so happened to move back in with my parents for two months, mostly because she was there too. There was this ambivalence. Some sense of joy and peace that we were together again, all while the harsh reality of what the future held crept closer and closer. 

This desire to slow down has come after a hard year of us each experiencing our own unimaginable loss. We talk about how it has changed our mindsets, shifted us as people, and helped us realize what is important.

Today I woke up and realized I have not been acting in the ways Emily and I talk about. I have not been acting like myself. There has been this urgent feeling that I need to be “on” constantly. Like a performance of the most exciting life you could imagine. Running on this idea that I need to be running to catch up. That I am being left behind. Like I am always missing out on some monumental, super fun, once-in-a-lifetime experience that will bring everyone closer together.

I am not. I know this in my heart of hearts to be true. The people that love me still love me. They are not going anywhere. And I don’t have to either, not if I don’t want to. 

I want to live the kind of life my sister and I admire. Laying in bed a little longer. Taking my time to write my stories and read my books. Unapologetically being weird and joking and laughing until I cry. Sitting quietly outside. Singing and dancing as I do my chores. Knowing there is always enough time. Confident that I can slow down as much as I want.

When I think of my sister I smile, knowing we share this overwhelming faith that everything is going to work out for us.