My 25th Year

I’m a shy person. Extremely socially-phobic. May seem like BS for people who know me, but I get serious anxiety attacks when I am around a lot of people that I don’t know. I’m fine in groups I’m comfortable with, but strangers? No thank you. Mostly.

For most of my life, I feel like I’ve been chosen. Not as in The Golden Child special, but I’ve taken the path of least resistance and allowed my friends, schools, and style to be handed to me, because it was more comfortable than standing up for what I really wanted.

The one college that I really wanted to go to, UCLA, I didn’t get accepted. I got into other schools, Berkeley, Davis, Sonoma State and Spelman, so rather than make UCLA work in the future, I took the next best route and went to the one which offered the highest scholarship. Because really, how could I make UCLA work? I didn’t know anyone in LA. I didn’t have any friends going to UCLA. It’s not like I could move down to LA by myself and go to a community college, and try to transfer in two years, no way. Who did I think I was?

But really, Spelman wasn’t much more comfortable, but it was easier. I had a friend in Atlanta, and I wouldn’t’ have to pay much to go. And I didn’t want to stay in Northern California. High school wasn’t the best years of my life, and there were a lot of people and events that I was happy to leave far behind. So, the path of least resistance.

The group I fell in with there started with me and one other girl. We met smoking behind the dorms after lunch one day, and as the only smokers we saw in campus, it made sense that we would be friends. I had made other friends too, and slowly we formed this group, and it’s weird because I was the one who brought the group together, and the one who was ultimately pushed out. But maybe I isolated myself, by not dating boys on campus, by getting married toward the end of the year, and by loudly announcing that I hated Spelman and was leaving as soon as I could.

It wasn’t my scene. It was fun at first, the clubs and frat parties six nights per week, but I was always uncomfortable. Too many new people, and as my friends found boyfriends, and I was constantly rejecting advances because I had a fiance at home, I got pushed into a new group, the single people, the ones who couldn’t find a date, and the few guys who refused to date anyone but me.

But that’s just an example. For some reason this week, I’ve been thinking a lot more about my choices in life. Some things I felt forced into. Some I regret with every ounce of my being, though I’ve forgiven the people who pressured me, and myself for not fighting for what I knew was right. Some other things, I’m grateful for, because they ended up being positively life-altering. Maybe turning 25 means a new leaf, and I want to start making my own choices, not just doing what is easiest or most comfortable. I don’t want to take the path of least resistance anymore, and waste my life doing what other people want me to do.

But damn, it’s hard to change. It’s hard to make different choices when people expect you to act a certain way. It’s frustrating to have people constantly question you, inquiring what changed. It’s hard to step out of the comfortable little life you’ve made, and see if there is something new to discover. And it’s even harder when you’re obligated to your life. I love my husband, my kid(s), my house, but they are all obstacles to what I’m trying to do. I can’t go out to a bar and meet new people. I can’t go back to the old friends, the ones from before who still expect to see the old Aletta when I walk through the door. I can’t make any radical change and see where it leads me, because I love what I have, I’m just looking for the ‘more’ that I know is out there. And old habits are hard to break, even when you are dying to get out from under them.

But, we’ll see. I think this will be a good year. No more coasting, it’s time for me to get my ass back in the saddle, and see what I can do with myself.