Since the beginning of the year, I’ve been on a path of self-discovery. Well, I guess I’m always on that path, but I’d say 2014 has been the (not very well planned) year of figuring out “Who Is Sydney” vs. “Who Everyone Expects Sydney To Be” – and it hasn’t always been pretty.
I could sit here and say that everything about 2014 so far is sunshine and rainbows, but then I’d be lying. And if you know me, you know I’m not good at lying, which is why I gave it up a long time ago.
So, who is Sydney?
That’s a good fucking question. And I think that at some point, I’d hope, we all go through this period. I had spent a couple days reading through old posts and I had this filter of “who the hell would read that?” So much for Sydney: Unfiltered. And really, that’s the thing that pisses me off the most about sometime in 2011 and now, is that I developed this filter for myself. Sydney. The girl who’s damn outlet for getting it all out, titled UNFILTERED, had a filter. It’s ridiculous.
What event, or series of events, or people, or life-happening led me down this path of cutting out one of the most important things in my whole world? It wasn’t just here. I had a sweet little column in Blue Skies Magazine that was an every-single-month occurrence from 2011-2012, then took a back seat in 2013, and picked back up at the beginning of 2014.
I don’t know who helped me develop the filter (probably just my own crazy brain), what (if anything) happened, or why the writing stopped. But I can identify the roadblocks.
“What will people think about me if they read this?” Seriously? For the better part of 2012-2014 (until last month), if I sat down to write anything, the lens was “oh my god, this is horrible, what will people think of me if I publish this? Do I sound like a typical Millennial douche? Do I sound entitled? I hope I don’t sound like I’m a know it all, because I know I’m not a know it all.” THE TORTURE GOES ON AND ON. I could never just sit down and write.
“I’m not qualified to say this.” I was faced with this hurdle for the new take on my column for Blue Skies, as we were discussing a column for newbie skydivers. I knew I knew enough to pass on to the 26-jump wonders, but even before every column, I have my husband (who has been a professional skydiver for 14 years and has 8,000+ jumps) read it and I ALWAYS say: “do I sound like a fucking idiot?” Of course he tells me no, that this is totally legit information and that I’m 100% qualified to share these thoughts with newer jumpers.
“I don’t have time.” Holy shitballs, the story of my life. I am very unimpressed when people say “oooh, I’m just soooo busy” or “I don’t have time” as if it’s a status symbol. And I pride myself on having developed the capacity to say “no” to things I don’t have time for, or that I don’t want to make time for. But here I was, not MAKING time for writing. Just like I’ve done a really shitty job of making time for working out. “I don’t have time” isn’t an excuse anymore.
So while I don’t exactly know who Sydney is or where Sydney wants to go or what Sydney wants to do, I know this much:
A) It’s okay NOT to know everything right now and NOT have a plan mapped out
2) If I start doing the hard work to let go of the self-induced expectations that come along with “Who Sydney Thinks Everyone Expects Sydney To Be” – life will start to unfold in ways I didn’t think possible, or in ways I wouldn’t have seen if I was too busy living up to who I think I’m expected to be
Blue) Figuring this out has been a very enlightening experience, and my husband is hands down the most patient man on the planet. Between him, one of my girlfriends going through a similar experience, and my family, I have one hell of a support system as I try to navigate this path
Long story short, it’s high time I get my shit together. Get back to Unfiltered. FIgure out who I am, what I want to do, and where I want to go. If there’s anything I’ve learned this year, it’s that life is far too short. Period.