i want to be everywhere

 I found this picture from two years ago (this is really important to me guys) and realized the words on the screen feel just a little different to me now. The picture is an excerpt from an essay by Tara Monjazeb, which I remember resonating with me so much when I first came across it. I even wrote about this in my journal back in February this year, which I think is funny because apparently I have been thinking about the same thing for longer than I realized.

Before I begin, a little credit where it’s due: Tara Monjazeb has honestly been one of my biggest writing inspirations for years. I’ve always admired the way she writes about ordinary things and somehow makes them feel worth sitting with.

Okay.

There is a strange pressure to always be participating. Back then, I thought participation meant saying yes more often. It meant stepping into things instead of watching from the sidelines, letting myself be part of whatever life was offering me. I think a lot of that came from being in college, where there is always something happening and always another opportunity you could take. There are clubs, programmes, committees, events, competitions, volunteering, meetings, positions, projects, and people constantly asking you to join something. It can feel like there is an endless list of ways to make your college experience count, and I was afraid that if I stayed still for too long, I would somehow miss my own life. I thought that saying no too often meant I was standing outside of my own college experience while everyone else was living it.

I don't think that anymore. Sometimes we mistake being busy for being alive. We become so afraid of missing out on our lives that we start trying to experience everything, even the things we don't actually want. I know I have done this. Sometimes I said yes because I genuinely wanted to be there. But sometimes I said yes because I didn't want to be the person who wasn't there. Sometimes I wanted the experience, and sometimes I just wanted to be the kind of person who had experiences. There's a difference between the two. Believe it or not, I get drained. And I understand myself a little better now. I've realized there is only so much of myself I can give to people, places, conversations, experiences, and possibilities before I need to retreat back into myself. College makes this particularly easy to forget because there always seems to be someone doing more. Someone is joining another organization, taking another position, attending another program, going somewhere, meeting someone, or doing something that looks exciting from the outside. There is always another opportunity you could say yes to, and sometimes it becomes difficult to tell the difference between something you genuinely want and something you simply feel like you should want.

And I actually like being involved. I like meeting people, working on things, being part of a team, and having something to look forward to. I don't regret the things I've participated in, and I don't think being involved is a bad thing at all. What I've changed my mind about is the idea that more participation automatically means a better college experience. It doesn't. Mary Oliver asks, in The Summer Day, “what is it you plan to do / with your one wild and precious life?” I think I used to read that question almost like a challenge to do more. Say yes. Go places. Meet people. Try things. Make memories. Make sure I could look back on my college years and know that I had really lived them. Now I think the question asks something slightly different of me. It's not about how much I can fit into my life, but what is actually worth giving my life to. Having a full calendar is not the same thing as having a full life, and being present at everything does not mean you were truly present for any of it. 

There is a difference between participating in your life and participating in everything. I can enjoy a program and still want to go home early. I can be grateful for the opportunity and still say no. I can love the people I'm surrounded by and still need a night where I don't speak to anyone. I can have a really good week and then need a completely empty weekend. I can be proud of what I've already done and decide that I don't want to take on anything else for a while. None of that means I'm wasting my college experience. It means I'm paying attention to what I actually have the capacity for. I used to treat solitude like something I had to overcome. If I stayed home too often or declined too many things, I felt like I was slowly becoming someone who wasn't participating in her own life. Now I understand that going home is also part of my college experience. Resting is part of living. Having an empty evening is part of it too. Choosing one thing over five other things is still a choice, and sometimes it is the more honest one. 

I'm not less ambitious or less social or less grateful for the opportunities I am given. My energy is finite. I still want to participate. I still want to say yes to things that excite me, meet people, work on things, try things, make memories, and be surprised by what college brings me. I don't want to become so protective of my energy that I stop letting life reach me. I just don't have to participate in everything to prove that I'm living it.

Looking back at the picture and remembering the girl I was, I don't think she was wrong. She was trying hard to make sure she didn't miss her life, and I understand why. I was afraid of looking back and realizing I had spent my college years watching everyone else live. Now I'm more afraid of the opposite: spending them saying yes to everything and having so little of myself left to actually experience any of it. I think I've finally realized that I don't have to be everywhere for my college experience to be meaningful. I can leave early and say no. I can have a quiet semester. I can go back to my room after a long day and do absolutely nothing, and none of those things mean I've stopped participating. Participation still matters to me. I just understand now that it has limits, and having limits doesn't mean I'm living any less. Sometimes showing up means stepping forward, and sometimes it means knowing when to step back. Both are still ways of being present in my own life.

Basically, breathe.