I love John Green's video blogs on YouTube. If you haven't watched any of them, you really should check them out-a glorious mixture of deep, nerdy and hilariously random.
I also enjoy the ramblings of Hank (his brother), but not nearly as much.
Having read all of John books, I have concluded the likelihood that his inner world, like mine, is an oddly cohesive balance: joyful, romantic optimism with a melancholic twist- the grim, ever-present awareness of life's inevitable tragedy.
Most people probably wouldn't know about that second part for me, or at least they wouldn't have a year ago. It's always been there, but is not often percieved. You wouldn't know this side of John Green either, from most of his happy/hyper videos. If you read his books though, there it is.
I don't know if John is an INFP like I am, or if the link between this sort of personality is something else. Most people seem to be able to put the awareness of tragedy on the back burner, but I just can't. I never really have been able to, but since I lost my mom it has become impossible. It's makes you love people harder, and it's also harder to love people.
The balancing act seems to lie in the establishment of small "forevers" in little moments and acceptance that others will inevitably make a big impact on us.
"Some infinities are bigger than other infinities" are the words spoken by Augustus Waters in Green's
The Fault in Our Stars. Words from one child cancer patient to the girl that he loves, whose diagnosis is terminal.
I know. I know. It sounds too morbid, but really, it's not.
The Fault in Our Stars had me crying on one page and laughing hysterically on another page. It's really just all about that balance that you have to find. That balance between joy and tragedy. It is a balance which screams at my psyche all the time. It's a balance which was turned into a beautiful story by John Green, and that's part of why I like him so much.
Ok, ok, so all of that is to say that I like John Green. I relate to him. Sure, he's smarter than me, wittier, more eloquent, more productive, but we share a personality with a similar dichotomy . Hey, I guess that's how a lot of people pick their heroes- "You are like me, but way cooler!"
Here's where I am going to be selfish and whiny. Forgive me.
Talking about John Green- I just watched one of his videos called "Perspective" which made some really important comments about how future you can' t always see how negative things in your past would come impact you positively. John talks about how, when he was 24, he had a breakdown after his girlfriend left and he was searching for meaning and everything. He lived on a diet of Sprite until he got really sick and he went home to his parents to get his head on straight. He started writing the book,
Looking for Alaska (which resulted ultimately in his current success).
However, the more I got to thinking about it, the more this one little detail started nagging me. John was 24. I am currently 24. John got sad, and stopped taking care of himself. Others took care of him. He got to quit the real world for awhile, because it was too hard, and he couldn't go anymore.He was too tired.
I've seen this happen a lot.
I am kind of jealous because I can't do that.
Here's the thing: I know a great deal people who have had breakdowns in their twenties: people I respect and love. I've never judged them for it, because life is rough. I've been close myself. I was close once in highschool when I experienced my first breakup. I was close once during my extremely challenging senior year, when I was taking 23 credit hours, working on my senior thesis, and missing my wonderful long-distance boyfriend. I saw others quit for awhile, go home. While I didn't blame them, I was always proud that I never had to use my "get out of jail" card. I could have quit, you see. I would have been ok. I wouldn't have starved or died or been shunned if I had.
In the back of my mind, I always knew that if I did ever crash and burn, my parents (like John's did) would pick up the pieces and help me get back together again. I knew that, but I didn't crash. The twenties are for exploration, a lot of people say. Young adulthood, where it's ok to mess up.
I made it through a challenging college in four years with honors. I made it through over a year of long distance heartache and married the man of my dreams. I found a satisfying job right after college. All before the age of 23. I was happy. And yes, a bit proud. I felt so successful at life. But definitely not done-so much more to do.
Then the past year: a whirlwind of love, stress, pain, grief and sorrow. I miss my mom, one of my best friends, so much. I am left with so many new questions and dreams and pains. I am so tired, and I ache with a very personal kind of sadness that it seems no one else can understand.
("There are many kinds of love, but never the same love twice."-F.Scott Fitzgerald). Often, I think that mom would understand, because she's most like me of any person that I ever met. But then she's not here to understand, which makes it all the harder.
I get up every morning and go to work. I act happy. I teach. I am happy sometimes. I push all these feelings aside so I can function. I run errands, cook, talk to friends, hang out with Dane and my dad, read, watch TV. I am exhausted from life. But even more, I am so exhausted from holding it in-the grief that sneaks into quiet moments and makes my hurt. Hard to breath.
Night-time is the worst. Every night the images keep coming and my heart seems to break all over again.
If ever there was a time when I would breakdown, it would be now. I'm a feeler. Always have been. I feel things in such a big way that it would be easy to let them take me over. So easy. A breakdown would be so easy.
But if I ever had a "break down" card, it is gone now. It went away with my acceptance of all the responsibilities of which I was so proud. I have an education, a job, bills to pay, a loving family who needs me to be ok. If this is the time to explore and make mistakes, I wonder why I am not allowed to be a mistake for a little while. Inside, I am the opposite of okay. How do I keep seeming okay to people? Why do I have to? The jealous teenager in me sees others getting a break over other things and is crying out, "This is so not fair!"
I don't have a back up plan. We don't have money to fall back on if I couldn't get up and work in the morning. I don't have my mom to hug me or say, "Just always know that you can come home if you need to." It seems that being screwed up or having a breakdown is not a luxury that everyone can afford. I mean I wish I could. I really really do. Because inside that's how it is sometimes, and keeping up the facade is wearing me out.
It was like at the memorial service for mom. So many people came. I didn't want to talk to all those people. It was actually the last thing I wanted to do. I wanted to be alone and scream and cry. But the people came to share their hearts and it was my responsibility to hear them for my mom.
Then I think about Scarlett O' Hara, (about whom I have very mixed feelings). Southern icon of charm, beauty and guile, Scarlett is not the kind of girl I would want to hang out with. She's always flattering her way into the most advantageous heart that she can, and she doesn't really care who she takes out in the process.
However, she went through some tough shit.
She was raised in all the luxury that the South could afford, wanting for nothing. You would expect that coming home to Tera to find her home mutilated, mother gone, and father crazy would have made her give up, but it didn't. She knew she was the only one who could keep things going, so she just kept going. She never rested, never stopped.
I don't necessarily want to be like Scarlett O'Hara, because for the most part I find her quite disturbing, but I do admire her endurance. It is encouraging to the position I find myself in right now, where having a breakdown is not a luxury I can afford.
Then I think about people who have problems which are not first-world, and I feel ashamed of my petty longing for a break.
.... People who have lost almost entire families to starvation or disease and are just trying to survive from day to day. It's a whole new perspective entirely.
I'm sorry for the tremendous length and rambling nature of this post, and I don't really expect many people to read it. I was just going to journal it, but I thought that others sure have had similar thoughts at some point and maybe it would do some good to post it.
I'm just feeling kind of run-down lately. And I'm thinking of all the times I could have broken down but didn't- how proud I felt. Now I'm not to proud to admit that I am seriously struggling, but the breakdown card is gone. Again, first world problems.
