Things That She Did: That

Wowowowowow look at me here on the #blog. What a guy. But listen, I think regardless of what happens to this blog, I will always be back on April 27. This is THE day, so here it goes.

Dear Kendall (April 27, 2018), 

Wow. I don't know what else to say. It's been FIVE years since I wrote the first letter. In the grand scheme of things, five years is nothing, it's literally a millisecond in the landscape of the universe. However, for Kendall, five years has been a LONG time and so much has happened and changed, but also not. But before we get into that, let's just have a recap. This is where you were at each year when you wrote that letter:

2012: A senior in high school. This one blows my mind the most. I was literally 18 years old. And I had no clue what was coming next. 
2013: A freshman in college. I was still figuring things out. I think my mind was trying to pretend like things weren't different. That I was growing. That things were happening. 
2014: This is when things were starting to sink in, but I was still thinking from a stand point as that senior in high school. Worried about changing who I was and what I was supposed to be. 
2015: This one is the most interesting. This was a BIG year for you. Especially this time specifically. You were, in a way, broken. The weight of how far I had come finally crashed on me. It was all finally real and I had to learn how to deal with that. 
2016: This is post broken, but pre new. I was still navigating this new world and trying to figure out where I belonged. You were a senior in college. It was such a transitional phase. You didn't know where you were going or what was going to happen, but you were here for it all.

And now we are here. I've said this before, but I think about what my past self think about what I'm doing now and no matter what I never would have imagined this is where I would be now. I'm at home. I'm teaching. I get to hang out with one of my best friends every day. I have so many amazing students. Like, you made it, Kendall. 

I was reading through the old letters and this was one line that stood out to me from 2014, "I want you to live up to the potential that you have been creating for yourself." Just take that in for a second. It all clicked once I read that. All the years leading up to this, I have been creating this potential for myself. All that time I was so upset with myself for not being what I wanted to be, but I realize now that I just wasn't able to yet. But here I am. 

Yes, I'm an adult now. That's still wild and I'm not 100% how to navigate it at all times, but I think the best part about it is that I have the freedom to do what I think is right. I don't have all these barriers anymore, many of which were honestly self inflicted. I've finally allowed myself to do what I've always wanted to do. And it feels so good. 

So where does that leave you? I'm not really sure. Even if I don't 100% know where I'm gonna be a year from now, that's okay. That doesn't mater as much anymore. I just know that if I'm continuing to do what's important and special to you, that that's all that matters. Keep doing you, Kendall. It's finally working. 

Three Peace and Love,
Kendall (April 27, 2017)

Breathe In

I’m feeling some type of way. And whenever I’m feeling THIS type of way, I end  up here. Though my presence in this space has become scarce, I still return and visit with old Jens and Kendalls left behind on these webpages. Kendall is right in that this has become a place where we can reflect on not only how far we’ve come but also where we’re headed, even if we don’t know where we’re headed. Actually, ESPECIALLY, if we don’t know where we’re headed.

I guess I’m in that situation right now where I am acutely feeling doubts and anxiety about what’s to come because I have no idea what to expect. Last month I had a mini panic attack after reading an article The New York Times wrote about how Obama entered his presidency in 2008 with enthusiasm for what was to come and drive to achieve the impossible, only to spend two terms realizing the limits of his actions and how divided a nation that elected its first African American president in 2008 really is eight years later. A little over three weeks ago, I was working on applications for co-op #3 this summer, all the while frustrated that I have not come closer to an answer to the question, “What law would you like to practice?” Last week, I registered for the five classes I will take in the spring quarter, in the hopes that one of them will give the future somewhat of a recognizable shape, a breath of relief from the vague outline I have been trying to decipher since I first stepped into Northeastern’s hallways. I am more than halfway into my law school career and I still don’t know. And it is crushing crushing crushing.

But is it really the not knowing that is bothering me? The more I think about it, I feel like I do not feel anxious about not knowing what is to come. Rather, I feel anxious about the possible disappointment that may indeed come. Every day, I go to work and think, “Today might be the day I realize I am not as smart as I think I am. Today might be the day I realize my limits.” And then I think, “How did I get here, living every day in constant dread, believing that there will be a moment when I have to face the music, put my hands up, and say, ‘All right, the gig is up. This is ALL I’m ever going to be, nothing more.’?”

Last month, on some whim, I took a look at what I wrote here on my 18^th birthday back in 2012. You know what I wrote about? Invincibility. The superpower that you have when you’re young and you believed that anything was possible. And nothing, no one, could touch us, could break us down, or let alone tell us, “You CAN’T.” We had everything sort of planned out until 2012. And then beyond that, we didn’t think, “Oh no what now?” We dared to think, “YES anything can happen and we will make it so.”

All my life, I’ve been working to be something, to be someone, I can be proud of. I never once did think it was necessary for me to pause every once in a while and ask, “What about the person I am now? Am I not proud to be her? Am I not happy to be her? Do I have to keep improving?” But there is the dilemma, you see, because there is always room for improvement. We can always be better. What I failed to learn early on and am struggling to remind myself every day is that you can be perfectly happy with the person you are now while also recognizing that you can be better.

Kendall says that has been the most telling change in me all these years—my self-awareneness and my dedication to be better. But what if that is just the amplification of my insecurities that I will never be happy with myself, whoever I may be, at any given time?

No surprises here, like every young 20-year-old woman, I have insecurities about the way I look and doubts about my abilities and fears about my mistakes and anxieties about the unknowable future. And it’s hard to keep going when every day, you learn something new and, in learning that new thing, you realize you don’t really know anything. At all.

But it’s moments like these when I have no choice but to turn to those who never cease to care for me and remind me that everything will be okay. Brandon and Kendall and Shayne and Adrienne and Quintin and Heide and Nicolyn and Erik and Kirk and more. I am lucky I have constant reminders to take it day by day, to keep my chin up, and to say, “I’m proud of myself for doing my best today. And I believe in myself to do better tomorrow.”

Of all the things that Kendall has taught me, one in particular that comes to mind now, is that whenever you’re feeling anxious or confused, ground yourself in what you know to be true: In February, I go back to Boston for class. I will be taking classes that excite me. In the summer, I will be back in New York City on my third co-op, working for a small firm that believes in and does great work in trying to achieve workplace justice. I may not know beyond that, but it will be okay. 

I will know more each day. I will do my best today. And I will do better tomorrow. Over and over and over again.