The First Intention

I think a large part of how I’ve been feeling is to sort out, as my title suggests rather vaguely, the first intention of me moving here. I have a ton of feelings associated with them. I’ll try to organize them so that anyone who doesn’t have my brain can understand them.

1) Fear. A ton of that. I have fear that my intentions might prove wrong, that I might be proved wrong, that the gamble I have made will fail, that, truly, anything can happen. Fear that mistakes I have made will come back up and stick up into my face. Fear that I have worked so hard, studied so hard, and if it doesn’t bear fruit, what does that make me? What does that make the people who have supported me? Who would I be?

2)Guilt. Because I have done so much, had the support of so many people, that I would never want to let down on purpose.

3) I’ve actually realized it’s just a whole load of fear and that’s basically it. How deceivingly simple.

So here are the questions I have stemming from fear:

1: If I have done this, moving here, primarily in the pursuit of love, big if (which, knowing the inside of my brain I haven’t sorted yet), what does that make me? Does it make me undetermined? Does it make me a risk taker? Does it make me a lovesick foolish romantic? Does it mean my career ambitions are over? Does it make me a push over, a door mat? What does my existence here look like if it is the case? Does it mean anything else I do that gets in the way is pointless?

2: If it isn’t, then what am I doing? I am certainly not fluent in German, nor am I working as hard as I did in school, or not nearly enough to be working towards that.

3: Am I worried to go outside, to experience because of the way that this future is not guaranteed to me? What would all this hope and desire and dreams mean if I can’t get them? If I can’t stay what would this have meant? To step out to the horizon, dreaming of what lies ahead, to only be jerked backwards? I know this one is rather silly, because what is actually guaranteed to us in life, but knowing so much that my future life is so in flux, so contingent on a university, on a person, on a dream, on an official, really makes me feel so helpless and out of control. And maybe that’s another thing I’m feeling, that, to an extent, I’m spinning out, flailing my featherless wings, trying to see where the ground is. Continuing with the bird metaphor I wonder…

Am I bird or a person or both? If I’m bird, person, other, where am I going? Am I meant to be on the ground? Where are my wings? How can I learn to fly? Do I even bother? Where am I, who am I, where am I going? Sometimes I feel like I’m walking along a tightrope not sure how far the fall is, if the weather will blow me over, feeling just so vulnerable and out of control, moving slowly forward because I can’t figure out how to turn around, walking in a fog where I can only see my next step, sure of the next moment, only sometimes.

4: Am I worried to put myself out there because if I fail what does that make me? More of a life question I think.

5: Am I staying here, tied to what I think I should be doing?

So so many questions. I guess this blog is turning more into a diary. Which I guess it should since I barely do anything really, so don’t actually have any events to blog about.

Am I harsher to myself?

I know that all these weird existential questions should prompt me towards a turning point and epiphany sort of moment where I say aha, it’s all better now. But I feel just off kilter, like I haven’t found something to right me up, like one of those turtles who gets stuck on his back rocking back and forth trying to get back on its feet. I want to be the one who puts me back on my feet, abruptly breaking the turtle metaphor because I’ve never stayed put long enough to see a turtle save itself. Every moment plods along, it will sweep me up, and I will change and think more, but I don’t know if it ever gets all better. Aren’t these questions quite large?

This has been a lot of thinking, can I be done for the day?