Emerging Adulthood

Not unhappy but not jumping for joy either.

Photo credit goes to Bigwig Photography based in Copenhagen :)

The summer rain falls softly on the window, whilst I play some un-singable music in the background to set the mood and finally write an update on my blog again. Raf, mon petit orange, has settled into his panier (basket) next to me to accompany my creative process for an exciting Saturday night.

It will officially be five years since moving to Paris this Monday, and yes, I could have started my nationality process, but I am dilly-dallying a bit. Perhaps due to administration burn-out, but that is not the point of this post.

Summer, for me, is always a reflective season. I read somewhere that August is truly the Sunday of summer, and I 100% agree. I think even though I am no longer a student, I still count my years in summers (similar to Belly in The Summer I Turned Pretty), because a new academic year would start by the end of the month. Inevitably meaning a new planner too (I find such delight in choosing a new planner each year).

When I first moved to Paris, summer was and probably still is my favourite season. It's sunny, the days are longer, people are happier (thanks to receiving sufficient vitamin D), we're pulling out our cute summer dresses, and people remember to take holidays and enjoy life. However, as summer comes to its final countdown, I am also looking forward to what autumn has to bring as we reset ourselves from post-vacation highs and prepare for the colder months with a holiday season that comes at the end of each year.

The weeks feel long, but the years fly by so fast. I was such a wide-eyed, naïve girl at twenty-three when I first stepped foot in Paris with my parents to begin this chapter of my life (and perhaps for the rest of my life). Now a twenty-eight year old teenager, I feel that I have grown in some ways, but some things take me back to being eighteen again. Growth is slow and sometimes painful, but hopefully I am in the right direction.

Iconic Nyhavn shot by Bigwig Photography in Copenhagen.

To be frank, I think I'm lost again, but it's less anxiety-based? When the whole world is presented to us at twenty-two or eighteen, or whenever we decide to jump out of the nest, it's overwhelming, scary, but we're excited and optimistic about the life (maybe not everyone, but I speak from my own experience) that lays ahead of us.

There's an anxiety from the fear of the unknown, but this time, I know things are going to be okay, so I don't feel "anxious." I simply just don't know how to decipher and define the success or path that is meant for me.

In fact, the pattern that reoccurs the most in my life, is the feeling of being between two things. There are unspoken expectations that I project or perceive around me, that dilutes the truth of who I want to be or am.

• From my parents and the American dream that they chose for themselves VS this whimsical girl who has no good reason to live in France except that she just wants to be here.

• The definition of success amongst American friends who have high salaries, investments, and a house VS a lower salary (in comparison to those in the US), accessible healthcare, and public transport.

• The girl who wants to be a good leader and take on more responsibilities VS the cosy girl who wants to simply write in a low stress environment.

• The girl who wants to eat healthy VS the girl who really loves junk food.

• The girl that enjoys movement VS the girl who enjoys laying in bed all day, undisturbed.

• The girl who wants to travel VS the homebody who wants to enjoy her rent.

• The girl who wants deeper connections with friends VS the girl who really loves being alone with the cat.

• The girl that wanted to work in mental health awareness and public health VS the girl pursuing something creative.

• The girl who was told it's better to be above average VS the girl who partakes in being a part of the average.

  
  

In some cases, I can be both and anything in between, but it takes me back to certain occurrences where I have to ask myself, why did I do that? Was it for me, or what I thought was expected of me?

Postcards from Copenhagen back in May

Nearly eleven years ago now, I remember smiling at the swim team banquet celebrating the new captains and the end of the swim season.

I went home and cried in the shower afterwards. My parents knocked on the door, expressing words to try and comfort me. 

"Simi, it's okay, it's not the end of world. There will be other opportunities."

I was devastated, because I lost the vote to be the captain of the swim team my senior year. It is trivial in the grand scheme of things, but at seventeen, it was everything.

"Why wasn't I good enough?" 

"What do I lack compared to so-and-so?" 

"Was it because I am not likeable enough?" 

"Not fast enough?" 

"Not a good leader?" 

"If I were prettier or skinnier, would that have helped?" 

"Or maybe being smarter?"

Of course it was just a title, and my motivations at the time were to give back to the team, because it was a swim team that really enhanced my high school life until it didn't. Yet there were other motivations too, this would have looked amazing on my college applications and there is some sense of self-worth that could have been externally validated. I can say now, that the girl they chose was a good fit. She is a natural leader, and I could have been a leader in my own way without the title. Besides, the person that I really am is a lot more introverted than the extrovert I tried to present myself as at the time (a product of my culture). So hanging back with less responsibilities could have been appreciated more with the maturity I have now. Instead, I was depressed my entire senior year and opted to isolate myself like a wounded cat.

I could relate to the story of 'The Little Mermaid' when I was younger.

The story we tell ourselves will often be the story we continue to believe. If we believe we are not worth it, the decisions we make and the interpretations of events will reflect that. 

I continued to reiterate a story that validated that I was "not enough." Whether it was in terms of competency, beauty, appreciation, etc. 

I am still trying to figure out who I am without all the external noise of who I think I am supposed to be or who I think others want me to be. I am trying to find the Simi that has always been there and is completely loveable simply for being herself. I have flaws (i.e., my pettiness, sorry Enzo - thanks for loving me anyway), but also aspects that I consider a plus to my personality (i.e., my humour thanks to my pettiness). I am chuckling at myself now.

So, as a teenager who will be thirty-two by the next Olympics in 2028, I am trying to rewrite the narrative. Some days, I can stop the cycle of thoughts before they spiral, and other days, I keep repeating the negative one-liner.

The Design Museum in Copenhagen is a must-see!

I recently saw Inside Out 2 (Vice Versa 2 en français), and there was a quote that the character Joy expressed that resonated with me, "Maybe this is what happens when you grow up, you feel less joy."

I am not unhappy with life now, but I'm not really jumping for joy either. I suppose this is adulthood. There seems to always be something that I could or need to be doing, even though I do not want to think about more than what is expected of my civil duty each day (work, pay taxes, go home, and have some peace). I will acknowledge, that if this is the worst complaint of my adulthood, then I am indeed a very lucky girl. We live in a broken world/society with war and injustice, so I will not pretend to not be aware of the privilege I do have, and I thank the universe for the life I get to live.

My dad once told me, "There will always be people better than you, but also people you are doing better than." And that, seems to be what it means to be a part of the average.

I cannot be put into one box, but rather my identity is going to fill out multiple boxes. Franco-Lebanese author, Amin Maalouf, manages to simplify in his own words the complexities of identity in his book Les Identités Meurtrières (merci Richie for letting me borrow the book!), because he too shares two cultures and many more facets to the person that he is. Unfortunately, this world tries to box us into whatever convenient label we visibly appear to be. However, we are more than that, and rooting our identity in being neither one nor the other, but rather the whole person that we are, will build an unshakeable confidence. I think that is what I'll try to keep pursuing. Let me have the power to define myself.

I don't know yet who the Simi at twenty-eight really is, but she is doing her best to figure that out. My success may not look like the success of my friends or family, but if I am safe and satisfied, then that will be success in itself.

Wishing everyone on their own journeys, figuring out who they are and happen to be at this level of Maslow's hierarchy of needs, all the best.

Sincerely,

Simi