soopastryheart

I was reminded the other day, that despite all my gung ho-ness of moving forward, how much of the past I’m still holding on to.

In what can only be described as the fastest slow month of my life, I’ve had to adapt to a series of new challenges and adventures, and still finding it difficult to comprehend the reality of everything that has now become part of the everyday. For someone as neurotic as me, there has been no adjustment period because time did not allow for such luxuries. Instead, I’ve been thrown into this very bizarre dichotomy where it’s hard to believe that this is me, that this my life, while simultaneously feeling more comfortable in my own skin than I have in recent memory.

As many of the readers of this blog are aware (all six and a half of you), I have taken the sharpest of career path turns, taking a cautious step into new and exciting territory. To be removed from such a structured life to one with so much freedom can be a difficult pill to swallow (especially for someone who loves her planner as much as I do). In these past few months, I have often felt an overwhelming amount of panic as to what my next move should be, or even, in which direction I should point my feet.

From this beginning of this unexpected expedition, I have promised myself only one thing: that I would be more open than I’ve ever been, both in career choices and in personal growth. It would have been far too presumptuous and unrealistic to say that I was going to completely change who I was, and who I am. At 25, my past experiences have already formed a solid foundation, and after all the ambiguity, all the confusion, all the gray area – I am finally in a position where there are certain truths that cannot be moved or chipped away. But even with the gospels of my life, I know that it’s foolish to believe that I will forever remain the same person.

And who would want to? Who can be that stubborn? Or that dedicated?

Not too long ago, I came to the stark realization I had unknowingly allowed certain experiences to influence me in ways that I am now trying to reverse. I will admit now, that at the beginning, after certain events, I was trying to portray the image of someone I thought I should be. The problem was that I did this during my most susceptible years, the time period where I was most impressionable, before I could realize the harm I was really doing. When you become your biggest influence, your strongest advocate, it’s only a matter of time before you accept certain things as the truth. And when you begin to build on that, it becomes increasingly more difficult to admit your mistakes and convince yourself to go back. It becomes nearly impossible to distinguish the real with the pretend. It wasn’t until a fiery battle that I confessed to myself that I had become a caricature of who I really was (and wanted to be).

I was incorrect in stating earlier that I’ve been shaped by my experiences. I don’t think it’s the experiences that change us, more so as our responses to those experiences. No matter how false the pretenses may have been, the bottom line is, I am who I am now because I chose to respond in a particular way. And clearly, I wasn’t aware of how significant those choices would be, because it wouldn’t be nearly as difficult to walk away now. Certain experiences, or, more precisely, the emotions involved with certain experiences, don’t just disappear. They become part of the fabric that is you, they become part of the choices that you make, inherently or not.

Even though they may have been made on a shaky infrastructure, I can’t say that I completely regret making those choices. They have become the ultimate defense mechanism, protecting and preventing me from making the same mistakes and becoming too vulnerable to careless inclinations. The problem is that this has become too automatic, and I may have become a little too callused, a little too protected, a little too defensive.

Recently, someone boldly told me that people don’t change, that maybe we wish to, but we ultimately don’t. I think that’s a crock of shit. If you’re growing, if you’re evolving, you’re stepping away from the standard, from what you were. And that is change. By trying to correct my mistakes, that is change. By even acknowledging the need to, that is change. Every adjustment, every addition, every subtraction, big or small, contributes to change. When you no longer are what you were, that is, by all purposes of definition, change.

There are many things I am sure of, but there are many others I am not. I’m not talking about a complete rebuild, because I am plenty comfortable with certain aspects of who I am. I would like to consider this more as a partial remodel, a repair, if you may. Still though, a wall that took a decade in building will be difficult to penetrate.

No wrecking ball, only a sledgehammer.

Dear KiMooniePants,

This letter should have been delivered a few months ago, near the time of your graduation. But as you remember, there was quite a bit going on at that point, and I found myself feeling wholly unqualified to fill the pages up with the words I wanted to say to you without feeling like an utter hypocrite.

I don’t need to tell you that our family is special. If you ask around, you’ll quickly understand that there are very few families who are as close as we are (or as laughably insane). You might shake your head or question if you were adopted whenever you see some bizarre antic, but it’s these little quirks that make us special, make us undeniably, us.

You’ve always been the second smartest between the three of us kids (because let’s face it: Honie beats us both by a long shot), but you’ve also been slightly clueless when it came to common sense (part of your charm, really). I have always cherished the fact you’ve come to me as much you have for guidance (and hope you continue to)– it’s meant so much that you trust me this way, that my opinions, my words could matter in your world.

I don’t know when you became the man you are now. The change, it seems to me, happened abruptly and quickly, like when you hit that 9-inch growth spurt one summer and lost your man boobs. I just know that one day, a short while back, I noticed the obvious growth in your maturity; you were a little more patient, a little less stubborn, a lot more generous, and a lot less careless.

Despite my track record and the recent turn of events in my life, I hope my advice will still mean something to you. Let me tell you that things will fall apart no matter how desperately you hang on, and life will have more bleak moments than bright ones. But take it from me Ki, don’t let those moments define you. Don’t let your shortcomings mean more than everything else you have to offer this world (and trust me, that’s a lot). Don’t hold on to the things you can’t control; I know you Ki, and I know you worry yourself like crazy when things aren’t going your way, but I hope that you learn to readjust and continue, because that’s really all you can do. You’re becoming more and more like Oppa everyday – which means you will become an amazing father and man, but it also means that you’re like him in that… you’re just as impatient and easily flustered as he is, especially when things aren’t going your way. The truth is, sometimes, no matter how prepared you are, good intentions won’t be enough. Sometimes, no matter the effort and dedication, the favored results will evade you. But I promise, especially for a kid like you, you will always figure it out. You’ll learn that misfires and setbacks aren’t always necessarily bad – that sometimes, it’s through those so-called errors that you learn from the most. Take it from your beloved Legos and K’Nex, and build from those experiences. Take those challenges, the adverse moments, and make them matter in ways that count.

Being the oldest has its fair share of obligations and responsibilities, but none more so than wanting to be a good person for you and for Honie. You should know by now, KiKi, that I put you and her before everything else, and I love you two more than words could ever adequately provide. I have never wanted to be anyone less than what I wanted you two to see me as; someone you could look up to, someone you could be proud of.

But truth is, I’m the one who feels the most proud by being able to say that I’m your sister. You are the first person I think of when the phrase “limitless potential” comes to mind. And maybe you don’t feel like you’re in the position you thought you’d be at this point in your life, but I see where you are now and truly believe you’re well on your way. Your ambitions will change and evolve as you do, until you reach a point you will become content, a point where you realize that all the shittier stuff had a purpose.

You’re 23 today. 23 was the age I gave myself ridiculous deadlines and milestones I thought I should have. I hope you haven’t made that same mistake. I hope you give yourself enough leeway to appreciate everything you have right now – your new job, your new car, your newfound journey into adulthood – and realize that there’s no age cap to experiences and success. I can’t imagine everything you’ll have done by 24, 25, and the years beyond. I can’t wait until you introduce us to a girlfriend (and I feel sorry for her already, since no girl will ever meet the impossible standards I have set for you). I can’t wait for all the things you have yet to achieve, all the things you have yet to embark on; because I know that no matter what the endeavor, you will be great.

As you get accustomed to your new life, don’t forget to make time for your crazy family, even when we’re bothering you with ridiculously mundane questions and favors, like when Oppa calls you to log-in to his bank account because he’s forgotten his password for the twenty-seventh time. It’s not that we are incapable of fixing the clocks in the cars for daylight savings, or figuring out how to set up wireless internet without you…. it’s just what we hang on to all these things because we are all well aware how quickly you are growing. So don’t think we are morons the next time we call you about the pilot light in the oven going out. It’s just another ploy, a pathetic excuse to hear your voice, to keep you close, and hold on to for as long as we can.

And once you are unfathomably successful, something I have never doubted you won’t be, please remember that your sister, your beautiful, wise, brilliant sister, who has supplied your wardrobe since grade school, and dealt with the state trooper during your 21st birthday, loves all things Balenciaga and Yves Saint Laurent.

Happy birthday Ki.