Hey howdy hey, it's me. Back with another story to tell. If you're new here, I'm glad you're here! Quick recap: I've been using this personal blog for a few years now, ever since August 2018 when I wrote my first story, An Overwhelming Upheaval. If you want to read that, feel free. That story and the few that follow it recount my life from that moment up until June 2019.
Like anyone's life, mine was a rollercoaster of ups and downs, and I was happy to share them all with you. The highest peaks, the fastest drops, the wildest loops… sure, they were mine, but I made them yours too. I shared my rollercoaster… until that summer of 2019, something happened. I know what you're thinking, and no, the rollercoaster didn't stop. In fact, the peaks grew higher, the drops faster and the loops wilder. But something was different. You weren't there. I was on my rollercoaster, the craziest it had ever been, but I didn't let you join. I shut you out. I was… alone.
Let's cut the metaphorical stuff real quick and take it back. Let's rewind to that fateful month of June 2019. I'd just written Stuck the Landing, my story about returning to Stillwater. It was a happy story. It was a happy story because I was a happy person. My first semester back at Oklahoma State was remarkable. I reconnected with old friends, I did well in my classes, I developed new relationships, I scored a job that I loved, and I finally made OSU my home. June 2019 was a peak.
Summer 2019 in its entirety was brilliant. I was living on my own for the first time, an experience that came with its challenges, but ended up being wonderful. I had all-new friends to spend time with, and I really felt like I could be myself around them. They brought out a piece of me that I had lost when I returned to Stillwater. They made me feel fully loved and accepted for whoever I wanted to be, for whoever I was. I'm still so thankful that they entered my life when they did, and I'm thankful that many are still here. They were my peak. They reminded me how good life can be. They reminded me that I can be who I am without judgment. It was a reminder I didn't know I needed, a peak I thought I'd already reached. But the peak didn't come without a drop, and drop my rollercoaster did.
Have you ever found something perfect? Something too good to be true? Something that you knew was meant to be yours? I'm talking about a thing that you encounter and the moment you encounter it, it feels like you've waited for it your entire life. A treasure. Have you ever encountered a treasure? I have. It was unprecedented, unforeseen, and unbelievable. I'd never felt so great. For the first time in my life, there was something that made me forget about everything else. My insecurities vanished, my confidence soared and my joy was unbridled. Life had become something I never knew it could be.
I knew I had to keep what I'd found. This treasure that had stumbled upon me was too good to let go, I needed to hang on to it to ensure that my life stayed this way. I maintained the treasure. I safeguarded it. I cherished it. But that wasn't enough. What if I lost it? What if I'm not maintaining it enough? What if I'm not safeguarding it enough, cherishing it enough? I needed to do more, but I was already doing as much as I could… or so I thought. There was still one more step I could take. It was a step that I'd never taken, but if I was ever going to take it, now was the time. What else could make my insecurities vanish, my confidence soar and my joy unbridled? So I made a dangerous decision that no one should ever make: I decided I didn't need anything else, that I only needed the treasure I'd found.
Gone were the friends I'd reconnected with, gone were the reminders of who I could be… and gone were you. Until then, I'd been sharing my rollercoaster with you. The coaster took a stop, and I didn't let you back on. No, I shut everyone and everything out. I was convinced that I didn't need you anymore. I was so wrong.
You see, here's the thing about treasure: finding it is euphoric, but as time goes on, it doesn't always bring you what you thought it would. No matter what your treasure is — a person, a possession, a place — you can't count on it to always bring you that feeling of unbridled joy. That's not fair. People are fallible, possessions are material and places are nothing more than environments. These are things that I'd learned before. I'd certainly been let down by people before many times, I knew possessions would wash away over time, and I'd learned the hard way that your environment can't be the sole determinant of your happiness. I knew these things. But I forgot.
Am I saying I'm responsible for everything that happens to me, for everything I feel? No. I know my peaks, my drops and my loops aren't my full responsibility. I know that people, possessions and places can have profound impacts on my rollercoaster. But I put 100% of my faith into something over which I had 0% control. Something that brought me to the highest peaks my rollercoaster had ever seen. Those "I-can-see-my-house-from-here" peaks. That's how high I was! It was, like I said, euphoric. But the highest peaks can cause the fastest drops, and if you shut everyone out of your rollercoaster, the drops are so, so much worse.
When my rollercoaster dropped, it dropped fast. I was plunged headfirst into a tumultuous school year where the peaks were still high, but the drops only grew faster, and the loops only grew wilder. I was devoting all that I had into something that, despite my every instinct, was not meant for me. I began to lose the people I once held dear. It was only so long before they realized I was shutting them out, and once they did, many felt no reason to keep trying. The rollercoaster was closed, so they left. And I don't blame them one bit.
Like I said, the entire school year was characterized by high peaks, but increasingly fast drops and wild loops. It became a pattern. I'd see the peak coming. As the coaster would climb to the top, I was so excited to reach it. The "I-can-see-my-house" moment was the best. I could see it. I felt so good, I was on such a high, that I could see the place I wanted to be. I could see the person I wanted to be. I could see the life I so desperately wanted to have. I could see it.
And then I couldn't. The peak didn't last, my house was out of sight as I dove toward the ground. The drop seemed to last forever. I screamed, but no one heard me. I didn't let anyone ride with me. I didn't tell anyone about the fall that was happening. And the loops that happened after it. The wild, nauseating loops that felt as endless as the drop. My screams meant nothing. They didn't fall on deaf ears, they fell on zero ears.
But then eventually, I'd calm down. The rollercoaster would come to a stop. Sometimes, I'd see my friends at the gate. They wanted to ride with me. They wanted to bear my burdens. They wanted to help. They saw my pain. They saw my tousled hair and the tear streaks running down my face. When I saw them, I wanted to let them on. I wanted nothing more than to open the gate and tell them to ride with me. To help me carry the load. I'd get close, just about to open the gate, and then I'd see it again: the rise. The climb. The peak. If I just hop back on the rollercoaster, it'll be okay. I don't need my friends, I can see the peak right there. Maybe this time it'll stay high. Maybe this time, it'll take me to my house. Maybe this time, it won't be followed by a drop.
I left them at the gate. Every. Single. Time.
I rode that rollercoaster for what seemed like years. Alone and foolishly optimistic, I rode the same ride over and over again, each time expecting a different result than the last. Each time expecting the drops and the loops to simply disappear. Each time seeing friends at the gate, wanting to ride with me. Each time turning them down.
But I could only take so many drops. I could only take so many loops, so many screams, so many tears. Something had to give, and it did.
Were there still friends at the gate?
Yes.
Did they want to ride with me?
Yes.
Did I let them?
No.
I defied their expectations. I simply got off the rollercoaster. I realized something I'd become blind to. I'd seen my house so many times on that rollercoaster that I forgot something: there's an entire theme park left to be explored.
I know, quite typical of me to boil all of this down to one giant theme park metaphor, but am I wrong? You don't have to ride the rollercoaster you're riding right now. You have the full control over which rollercoaster you ride and whether or not you let the people who care about you ride it with you. No matter which rollercoaster you ride, you know there will be ups and downs. There will be peaks. There will be drops. There will be loops. But you have a choice to find one that you enjoy. You have a choice to let people ride with you.
You can find the life you want to live.
Your burdens aren't exclusively yours.
It's a learning process. It may take time. You may mistake someone else's treasure, someone else's rollercoaster for your own. Eventually, you'll find yours. Your theme park is massive, it's yours to explore. So explore. If you make a mistake, that's okay. If you shut people out, that's okay too. It happens. It's normal. But when you realize the rollercoaster you're riding doesn't actually suit you, get off. When you see your friends at the gate, let them join you. Share your rollercoaster.
I didn't think I would get so metaphorical in this, but here we are. I hope this made some sort of sense, I always worry that these ramblings become something that only I understand by the end of them. I'm not crazy, I swear! …Maybe a little bit.
Anyway, the rollercoaster I'm on right now is pretty good. It's mellow. It's calm. I'm sure drops and peaks await me, but right now, I'm on a slow and steady incline. I'm not trying to find the perfect treasure anymore. Maybe I'll find one further down the road, maybe I won't. I'm not worried.
Right now, I'm taking the opportunity to focus on the one thing I've never truly focused on in my life: myself. I'm surrounding myself with people who bring me joy and make me feel loved and accepted. I'm keeping my living quarters tidy. I'm working on some new personal projects that I'm excited to share. I'm even eating healthy and losing some weight! (That's the part I'm most excited about.) I'm identifying the people who don't make me feel good about myself, and properly distancing myself from them while still loving them from afar. I'm doing what I need to do for me, and it feels really good.
While I'm on this mellow rollercoaster, by the way, you're more than welcome to come along. My gates are open, and I'm never closing them again. I want you here now.
I want to join you on your rollercoaster, too. If your gates are closed, that's okay. But just know I'm here. Standing. Waiting. I'm ready to ride with you. I'm ready to enjoy the peaks with you. I'm ready to see your house! I'm also ready to help you through the tumultuous drops and loops. I'm ready, just let me in whenever you are. I'll be here.
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