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 18th 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.
