Sometimes, I wish I was a dude. Not because I don't like dressing up, wearing makeup or having to go through monthly internal battles within my body (maybe I can skip that part actually).
I just want to not think for once. And at least from what I've read--and experienced--guys don't think as much as girls.
During my time out in the wilderness or putting one foot in front of the other in my attempt to run, a transformation takes place. I'm suddenly banned from the outside world, sucked into a vacuum and shackled by my ankle to the beast of my thoughts.
It's quite ironic--I go running or hiking to escape the confinements of life in a cube to find myself imprisoned in mental version of one.
Don't get me wrong, I'm not in a constant wrestling match with my thoughts--but I do pine for that silence, or "zen", that some are privileged to enjoy.
See, the issue is that for someone like me who allows my negative thoughts to have a voice louder than my own, I have a predilection to let them determine my actions. Often times (this was more frequent back in college), that means talking myself out of doing something.
Yes, I've gotten more brave and have taken more risks, but the weight of those thoughts that I drag along try to remind me that I'm still the same timorous girl that I was a few years ago. I fight it all the time, especially when I'm presented with an opportunity that scares the hell out of me and turns my hair (even more) grey.
This is perhaps a symptom of maturation--maybe I'm just going through the awkward puberty stage of blooming into an adult.
Or maybe.....I'm just a girl.