New Jean Mondays

My Monday’s have greatly changed since high school. In the three years since, they’ve ranged from my only day off, to pay-day, and now the day that I see my therapist. Oh what fun? I mean that without sarcasm. Who wouldn’t like 50 straight minutes to talk about their problems without interruption? Although an essential intervention as part of my adjustment to living with bipolar disorder, it’s still pretty narcissistic. But I still appreciate it and I find it helpful to me in becoming the person I want to be. I really do enjoy and look forward to my “Therapy Mondays.”

This Monday I decided to mix a bit of my past with my current. I brought back “Ripped-Jeans Mondays.” An old tradition I’ve had since junior year. It started off as a coincidence then eventually became an ongoing practice. An occasion that I actually looked forward to, I guess I never really had any bad Mondays. After graduation of high school “Ripped-Jeans Mondays” became a thing of the past. And today of all days was the worst I could have picked to try to bring back the past. In the middle of April it actually snowed and my poor knees had to suffer due to my poor planning.

As I walked through my old stomping grounds of DePaul University I began to reminisce on my time there. Nostalgia smacked me dead across the face and it seemed to hit harder than the windy snow whipping through the air. I remembered all the carefree fun I had with all the new and exciting people I met there. It was the highlight of my life and I loved every second of it. I remember the nights with my dorm mates that lasted until 5am. I remember the long walks through various neighborhoods throughout the city. My first time on my own to truly explore the world around me with new and fun people that helped me open my mind to so many different aspects of life. It was incredible, almost magical.

 I missed the simplicity of my life back then although it was only a couple years ago. I missed my friends. I missed the dorms, and the free food, and even the pompous assholes that strutted around campus like they owned it. Where excitement started in my heart this morning, now only lied sadness. It hurt to no longer to be able to apart of what was going on there. It almost seemed like a dream, like I imagined it all. I think the disconnection of my past and my present was what hurt the most. I am so removed from that point in my life now. It’s a tough pill to swallow.

Then I had to shift my perception. An exercise I’m trying adopt to maintain a positive attitude. And I began to look at the bigger picture. Perhaps, although it’s not the plan I would have liked, it was the plan intended for me. Perhaps I didn’t belong there anymore and my only connection to that place, those things, and even the people involved there, lied in the past. Just a memory of who I was that molded me into the person that I am today. Maybe some of the friends will return, but maybe not. My life will remain intact and I am still a whole person with a whole lot of experience and so much more to experience. I made a conscious decision to not allow my past to dictate who I am today. I have put on my big boy pants and walk the walk I was destined to without getting caught up about what I miss in my past. Whether it's a person or a place or even an experience, I can't hold on to it because it'll only hold me back.

I’m grateful for my past yet hopeful for my future.