What do we owe ourselves

Looking back to our lives, whether we are 10, 20, 30, 40, 50, or even older, we all look back with a sense of nostalgia for who we once were. Personally, at age 10, I thought that I would be engaged, madly in love. I would be planning my dream wedding in an old Victorian-style home. While yes, I was engaged. I called it off—two months into the engagement. While yes I was in love, we were not happy. However, I felt like I betrayed who I once was. Despite this, my sense told me that something so monumental as agreeing to spend our lives with someone should not be done based on what ten year old me wanted. But what do I owe to my ten-year-old self? At ten, I thought I would have a huge friend group, and we would be like those friends you see on TV. They have their favorite hangout spots and always have each other’s backs. Now my friends and I are scattered around the state. We see each other, but not often. The friends I do have at school I adore. Yet they are divided within themselves. I fear mixing my three main friend groups. I fear they will bound and leave me out. I fear they will hate each other and resent me. I fear that I will lose all three and be alone. But do I owe it to my ten-year-old self to mix these groups? To try and have that Hollywood dream. What steamed this rambling of thoughts and ideas was an old diary I once had. I would write in it randomly as a child. I would write to my diary as if she was my friend. In a way, she was my friend. She knew all my secrete, fears, desires, and more. I trusted her. No matter how old I was, 8, 9, 10, 11, or 12, I always wrote about the same thing. I just wanted to be happy. I wanted to feel the joy that came with life. I wanted to have that friend group cause that meant I was happy. I wanted to be madly in love because that meant I was happy. I just wanted happiness. Younger me viewed these things as the gateway of joy. In a way, I must say I still consider these as a gateway of joy. Yet age has taught me that true happiness begins with myself. I will never find joy in life if I cannot find joy within myself. I can have the best friend group but will continue to doubt their intentions, motivations, and fear abandonment if I cannot find what is right and joyful about myself. Growing up, we are taught that in order to love, you must love yourself. However, throughout these years, I have doubted this time and time again. I began to wonder if I was ever capable of loving someone if I cannot find any value in myself. Yet reading that old torn diary, I came to realize I loved that little girl. I loved the little girl who wrote about fearing; no one will love her because she was short. I loved the little girl who feared her parents loved her brother more. I wanted to run to that little girl and tell her it will be okay. Tell her that everything will be okay. Tell her all the things her future has to bring. Tell her that while we may not have become the cheer-leading captain, while we may not have dated the quarterback, we were happy. But see, I can’t. Because am I happy. Is what I feel right now happiness? Can I look myself in the eyes and tell her while all our dreams have failed and life is not what we expected we are happy? I ponder this every time I think of that little girl. I realize that is what I owe her. I do not owe her a dream man, a dream friend group, the bakery in downtown that we run in our dreams. No. What I owe her is happiness. I owe her the knowledge by age 20, we are happy. Sadly, I cannot lie to that little girl. She has felt too much pain already. She does not need to lose trust in me. So every day, every action I make will be so that I can go back to that little girl and tell her, “We did it. We are happy.”

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