coming off the path by Cami M. '23

“Where have you been?” Dear Reader, I’m not sure if I can begin to even explain where I’ve been. At the risk of sounding edgy, I’ve spent the past month and a half feeling as though I am floating. Days passed and they would blur into one another, I neglected my responsibilities in favor of going out and wasting the night away, and ultimately just playing a game of distraction.

As of late, I’ve been watching my life happen before my eyes like a movie of some sort instead of actively living it and participating in it. I was recently asked by my friend “Are you okay?” and in response, I described a bunch of things going on in my life.

And she cut me off in the middle to say “Cam, those are things that are happening to you, but how are you?”

I didn’t have a good answer for her.

Since the breakup, I’ve felt like things are just happening to me. I just happen to wake up everyday and go to class and see friends. Parties happen to me and I meet people and I talk to people and I happen to have a good time.

These past weeks have been incredibly hazy for me. It feels as though I’ve just blinked and it suddenly went from March 7 to suddenly the beginning of May and frankly, I’m terrified.

I indulged in a particularly hedonistic weekend in the desert of California at Coachella a couple of days ago. It felt incredibly peak “Dorian Gray”, surrounded by people drunk or high off their asses, dressed up in these elaborate fantastical outfits, splurging on drinks and food as they swayed to music that would kill a Victorian child.

There was something incredibly freeing in it, as I inhaled smoke and sweat and dust, enough of it to know that my lungs will probably be permanently damaged from this weekend. And as I stared at the blinding lights from the stage in front of me, I felt incredibly at peace, for the first time in a long, long time.

Even though my description of Coachella must sound incredibly nightmarish, it felt the perfect amount of indulgent, the perfect amount of letting loose, living without a single care in the world.

I think for the past month and a half I’ve been carrying something with me. This baggage. This idea that in this single era I should be living my life in X way or Y way, that I should be using this time to find myself. I’ve felt a certain kind of pressure to do something, to be something. And under all this pressure, I felt myself crumble and shut down completely. Where I’m normally so in touch with who I am and what I’m feeling, I’ve felt somewhat cut off from my inner thoughts. When I try to think of how I’m feeling, all I get is static in response, like talking to a brick wall.

It’s been strange operating myself in this state, wandering through life like a ghost and trying to find different ways to ground myself. My thoughts feel incredibly scattered. I don’t really know what I’m supposed to be doing at points in time or where I should be. I’ve been so forgetful lately and slacking off on work, turning in work that I’m not proud of, neglecting my jobs, feeling distant from everything.

There’s a part of me that feels incredibly guilty and ashamed of these outcomes. I know that these things are tied to my breakup. And I stand by my decision to exit the relationship. But if I’m the one that did all the breaking up, why am I acting out like this?

(I feel obligated to put a disclaimer here — I don’t regret anything I’ve done. I’m happy with the new people I’ve connected with and friends that I’ve made, even if I’m in a disoriented state. And I’m grateful to the people that have been around, both old and new.)

Really, I think a lot of this ties to the fact that for all my life, I’ve had a plan. Since elementary school, it’s felt like I’ve been on a fixed trajectory. I do well in middle school to get into a good high school and get good placements in classes. I do well in high school to get into a good college. I do well in college to get a good high paying job and move in with my boyfriend and live in New York City for the rest of my life and live out my days…doing what exactly? Settling down and getting married? Having kids?

I’ve realized I don’t know what I want in life. And really I think that ironically is the answer to everything I’m feeling. I’m not okay with not knowing and I need to learn to be okay with it. There’s some part of me that feels so liberated by the phrase. I don’t know. I don’t know. But then there’s a greater part of me that is terrified. To not know what these next 6 months to look like. To throw away my stable, healthy future for…something so confusing and unclear and ambiguous.

I feel this pressure to do better because I know the life that I could have had. My life could have been cushy Upper East Side apartments. It could have been stability with a boyfriend/husband that adored me and loved me to the world’s end. It could have been romantic dinner dates on skyscraper roofs and domesticity. But there was some part of me that was raging inside, begging to not sit down, not quite yet. But to do what? What could I do that could possibly justify throwing away something so good?

But then I have to remind myself that those cushy Upper East Side apartment days would’ve been laden with arguments, with a deep feeling of dissatisfaction as I look down at the rest of Manhattan and yearn for life abroad, yearn for an MBA, for something outside of the cage of glass walls.

It’s been hard to keep that in mind, though. And that’s what I’ve been struggling with most. Pressure. Guilt. A need to surmount the alternate life I would have led. A need to prove myself to bystanders and watchers from afar.

I think that’s one of the downsides of having such a public relationship; I now feel as though I’m being compared to my ex partner. That people are watching my moves to see just what is to come of me. (When in reality, I know that no one is probably doing this and all of this is self inflicted.)

So, TLDR, these past two months have been hard, a kind of difficulty I’ve never had before. Because I haven’t broken down into tears or felt any heaviness or sadness. Instead, I feel a dull ache, a fear that I’ll never be known again in the way that I once was known. An exhaustion at the thought of having to reteach someone who I am. A dread at the realization that I could be learned by someone only to go through this all over again.

I’ve been told that I think in future terms too much. That’s probably evident from the whole ‘had a plan since elementary school’ thing. The same goes for relationships. I’ve come to realize that I see them as investments, that I’m always wondering how this will play out in the long-term, in the future, what return I’ll get.

And so I’m trying, really fucking trying, to live in this moment and to be grateful for the people I have in my life now. Push away the thoughts of “What happens on June 1?” and simply just enjoy their company that I have now.

31 days. That’s all I have left with some of these people. 31 days. So here I am, picking myself up off the path of self-destruction and self-sabotage.

I don’t think this path is a bad one, though. I think it was something completely necessary. In this numbness, I’ve learned a lot about myself. In my relationship, I thought I had such a clear idea of who I was and who I wanted to be. I thought I was rid of all insecurities.

But in my singledom, I’ve realized that this is, in fact, not the case. I still have so much to learn about myself, so much to understand and explore. I think ultimately the real big first step is learning how to forgive myself and be okay with the person I am. In these past two months, I think some shit has really happened and I’ve questioned my identity, my decisions, and my sense of self a lot. But by doing this, I’ve been able to really give who I am a real hard look and realize that there are some things that need changing.

And so hopefully I can continue evaluating and enacting that change.