Gratitude, Reflection, and Other Musings
I'm BAAAAACKKKKKKK
There is a certain level of vulnerability involved with writing on the internet and sharing the depths of your soul with people you know, people you have yet to know, and people who have no relation to you. There is a certain level of vulnerability that comes with waking up every day and deciding to put a smile on your face despite the many shortcomings of your life around you. There is a certain level of vulnerability in reflecting on your past with gratitude, forgiveness, and understanding, realizing that the reason you are where you are today is because of the people you once knew and the person you once were. And, there is a certain level of vulnerability in returning to revisit those moments despite all the apprehensions and anxieties that may come up in revisiting such a tender, delicate (and often unexplored) place in your heart.
Very few people get my full level of vulnerability. Despite my oversharing on the internet and the rambling texts, or voice memos I send, I feel a certain level of trust needs to be established before I’m able to reach this “2.0” phase of any relationship (romantic or platonic). But, every so often, I meet people who unlock this person inside of me; The smaller, more raw part of my being; The girl who is afraid of what the future holds because she knows it’s so far outside of her control; The girl who is hurt by the past, and the many struggles she faced, unwilling to revisit those emotions since they often feel deep enough they’ll swallow her whole; The emotional scars from a girl who never allowed herself to fully be herself until she reached a place where she was just a number and found comfort in feeling more anonymous than ever.
This week, I did just that. I “re-met” a friend from high school. Dear, sweet, tender, insightful, creative, bright, brilliant Lauren. And she reminded me that I always was the person I am today, I just had built up some layers of armor that kept that girl away in an effort to “fit in.” It was a merging of the minds like no other. There was something so raw about us seeing each other because in every way it felt like home, there was so much newness to unlock as we have both individually grown as people and become our truer selves away from the judgment that came with high school social cliques. Away from the preconceived notions and definitions that followed your footsteps like the shadow you couldn’t quite escape, showing you there was always more but keeping you in your place. Hearing her speak, and learning more about her, felt like a mirror I have waited so long to look into. One that validated all my insecurities and comforted me in ways I wish my 16-year-old self could bear witness to.
We talked about how we wished we could go back and tell those girls they would be okay. Tell them that it all works out, even if you don’t white-knuckle your way into getting what you think you want. Even if it doesn’t work out exactly as you planned. Even if you don’t move forward on the same path as everyone else, or end up in the place you thought you would be when you were “planning” your life out. There was so much comfort in knowing we had a shared experience and that, even though we felt we reached this level of depth in high school, there were still many things we never told one another.
Something special about being in New York is that you can have these types of conversations in a busy coffee shop on a rainy Friday morning. The world continues to move around you, people come in and out, hearing little snippets of a conversation that somehow had the power to heal years of teenage aggression and fear. We often commented on how funny it is that being in a city as buzzy as New York you have ample opportunity to tune yourself out and absorb the thoughts of those around you. We quickly agreed that part of what makes life more sustainable and enjoyable here is that you have to have a level of emotional depth and vulnerability despite the environment you’re in to humanize the hustle and bustle of the world around you. Through our conversation, she echoed so many of these thoughts I’ve been having about my place in the world and the moments that fill my depths with gratitude for the people in my life. I felt seen and heard in a way that I can’t even begin to articulate, but it all felt very kismet and it felt like one of those moments I know I’ll reflect on years from now, when I’m old and grey, thinking of the individuals who built the mosaic of my life in my 20’s.
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I’ve been thinking a lot about this concept, “The Mosaic of My Life,” filled to the brim with people who have impacted me in some way to be the person I am today. I often have to stop myself in certain moments to bathe in the gratitude that comes with this self-reflection.
Recently, I was walking by Levain and I thought back to my first apartment in New York. The one I rented off of Airbnb. The one with a surgeon from Spain, a surgeon from Chile, a doctor from Portugal, and a medical student from Australia, and myself. I thought about our time spent in the living room learning about each other’s culture. And, I thought about the times Katie, the Australian medical student, and I would book yoga classes at Y7 and ultimately ditch out to get Levain across the street for “dinner” instead.
Each time I see, or peel, a sumo orange I think of my mother’s first trip to New York and us eating oranges on her hotel bed watching The Devil Wears Prada on a bitter February night because we didn’t want to face the cold. I also think back to my grandmother sharing Wendy Cope’s “The Orange” poem and the impact that had on me and my ability to romanticize the most simple, mundane things. I think back to the beginning of my current relationship when the simple act of him peeling, and sharing, an orange with me gave me butterflies from the depths of my stomach to the top of my head. The butterflies only got stronger and stronger as he showed me one of the contenders for his current apartment was located on Orange Street. From that point forward, he became my “Orange Boy.” And oranges will forever make me melt into a pool of emotions when it comes to him. ***** This was all pre-Tik Tok trend, I would like to add *****
My music taste can almost fully be attributed to Darin Fletcher and his library of songs he so graciously shared on homemade burned CDs from his iTunes library. But, more specifically, “Horse With No Name” reminds me of my desperate attempt to learn the guitar and Darin’s unwavering patience through my tone-deafness and genuine lack of ability. It came on the other day in a coffee shop and I cried thinking about how simple those moments were and how much love there was between his family and mine. When I think of my childhood, there are plenty of things that I only learned because I had the great fortune of living next to the Fletcher family. They were, and still are, my second parents and my four extra siblings (how lucky am I?!). <3
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I can go on and on and on and on, this isn’t even scratching the surface of the immense amount of people I’ve had the pleasure of knowing, learning, and growing from. BUT I’ll spare you the details and maybe save it for some of those more vulnerable moments between me, and them. Something I’ve been working on is shifting my mindset to truly, fully come from a place of gratitude. And something about reflecting on characters in your life who have made it feel more complete and taught you a thing or two makes that gratitude so much deeper. I read something the other day that said time is one of the most abundant free resources that we have, and I’d like to build on top of that and say that people are as well. I find nothing more valuable than spending quality time with the people I love, the ones I can feel most myself with. It’s the kind of thing that makes you feel “rich” in the soul, and ever so grateful for the life you’re living despite the many frustrations that may come day-to-day.
I’M BEING A CHEESY, SENTIMENTAL KOOK AGAIN SOMEONE STOP ME!!! (But really, please don’t).
Xoxox, Delaney