On Beginnings

If you ask me (and I know no one asked me), the beginning is the worst part of anything. Maybe this is controversial, especially for people who love “fresh starts,” but I don't share the same love of them.

Is there anything worse than staring at a big, fat nothing and not knowing what's next?

A blank page, an empty room, even a new relationship. They're all so…blank.

I understand that, for many people, this is what makes beginnings appealing. The opportunity to start fresh, to make your mark, to do something great.

But for me, it's too much emptiness.

I'd rather have an ending than a beginning any day — tie something up, neat and tidy, and call it a day. (One could speculate that this is why I love Hallmark-y rom-coms; they always end nicely. One would probably be correct. But I digress.)

Unfortunately, that's not the way this works.

In order to get a nice, neat, tidy ending, I need to face the beginning, too. I need to face the emptiness, the not-knowing-where-it's-going-ness. And that's the hard part.

That's not to say that beginnings aren't worthwhile. They most definitely are. But they're uncertain, and I don't do well with uncertainty.

I'd much rather have guidelines, direction. I excelled in school because I can follow a prompt like nobody's business.

In the real world, I don't have prompts, I don't have direction, I am…wandering. I'm not facing any big beginnings, but every day is a new beginning, and I feel like I'm lost in them.

I don't always know where to turn, what to do, or who I am without a prompt.

I don't always know who I am, period.

But who does?

Getting to know yourself is an entirely new kind of beginning.

So here's to beginnings, endings, and everything in between.