One of the best pieces of advice (or scorn) my mother ever said to me was “You can’t be a hermit all your life, Vanessa!” To which I always replied by going to my room, closing the door, reading a book, and not coming down until dinner. I disliked people, I hated how no one listened to me, I avoided going outside simply because I hated smelling like fresh air, I hated the beach simply because the sand made me itch, and I was the kind of kid who would read a book inside on the couch instead of outside at the cottage with my family. Why? Well, I was a shy kid, the kind of kid who kept quiet, the kind of kid who felt uncomfortable whenever I left the house, whenever I was in a big crowd.
I’m either growing up, changing, or taking my mom’s advice and putting it to good use (probably a little bit of all three). Although there is still no greater comfort to me than staying home, I find myself wanting to get outside, wanting to take a walk on my lunch, wanting to explore, wanting to be surrounded by people. I pay attention to things like flowers blooming, I sit outside and read just to be in the company of my parents when they’re hanging out in the backyard, I go nuts when my sister talks about the baby growing inside her (I freak out every time she gets bigger), I make an effort to be home when we have company. I’m noticing there’s so much LIFE outside, so much LIVING going on, so many MOMENTS to be apart of. Sounds a little bizarre that I’m just seeing all of this now, doesn’t it? Don’t get me wrong, when I need to be left alone, I am. When I need to concentrate or just NOT be social, everyone leaves me be, but I feel as though I’m finally starting to live. I’m finally starting to see the need for a balance between all of the wonderful books and stories that I read, and the one life that I’m living.
‘Cause that’s just it, you’re only given one life and it’s YOUR fault if you’re not enjoying it, living it, breathing it.