Sunday Scribblings - Real Life

Most of my life, “real life” has been muddled with fantasies and disillusions.

As a child, I was caught in an inner world of tormenting thoughts and rituals, believing that I must perform certain practices in order to ward off the tragedy I believed would befall my family. “Real life” meant endless counting and arranging and washing. It meant being teased by my peers and misunderstood by my parents. At the age of seven, “real life” was comprised by being fondled by a male student and then having my allegations negated by my teachers. “Real life” was consumed with fear and anxiety and an underlying sense of isolation. “Real life” meant finding my only solace through the “pretend” scenarios I played out alone within the confines of my bedroom walls. In order to avoid the fear and anxiety, fantasy became my primary way of coping with “real life”.

As a teenager, “real life” was a culmination of desperate attempts at self-annihilation. With my “pretend” scenarios no longer relieving the pain, I sought to merge my fantasy life with reality. I attempted to create a reality that would grant me escape from the anguish within. And yet my disillusioned attempts resulted only in a “real life” that scarred my body with self-inflicted wounds and scarred my heart with misguided efforts to obtain the love of multiple boyfriends.

As a college student, “real life” was a chance to start anew. It was an era of indulging my carefree youth. Surrounded by friends and sorority sisters and an endless stream of dates, “real life” finally appeared to be an approximation of my previous fantasies. And yet it was a “real life” that I created through hopes and dreams and words. In actuality, “real life” was simply a growth of fantasy, a persistence in merging my worlds of fantasy and reality.

As a young adult, I have finally began to experience a “real life” that does not necessitate a separation of good from bad, of fantasy from reality. “Real life” has been working 60 hour weeks and still finding time to relax by the pool. It has been the heartbreak of a failed marriage and the beginning of truly coming to know myself. It has been the formation of my identity and the acknowledgement of my past. “Real life” is pursuing my dreams, nourishing my relationships, and learning to soothe myself in the moments when pain is inevitable. “Real life” is still believing in soul mates, and yet realizing that true love cannot be forced or created or manifested through my imagination. It is the inner strength to overcome obstacles, to take risks, to challenge myself, and to embrace the cycle of life. “Real life” is real and authentic, frightening and exuberant, hopeful and heartbreaking.

“Real life” is waking up to see the world once tinged in hues of gray at last painted in vibrant colors. “Real life” is loving and living and learning, each day bringing another step along the path of growth.

**I hesitated many times before writing this post, knowing that I could go in many varied directions with this topic. However, I chose to write this, as a way to continue the growth that I have finally been able to begin in my current “real life”. Though it is difficult to write about some of this information and send it out into the world, I also needed to do this. I want you all to know a little more about me, about the past I have lived, and how it has led me to become the person I am today. Of course, this post does not even come close to telling the story of my life, but it is a window, and a window that I am finally willing to open.**