This last year was the
most brutal year of my life. They say life doesn't get easier, you just gain
maturity through life's lessons and become more well equipped to deal with the
curve balls. I'm going to agree with that theory, and raise it a holy-hell-what-the-fuck-was-that. I'm the oldest I've ever been, and have struggled most of my
life. Yet nothing can explain away the pain of discovering that your choices have led you so far astray from your true path, the path you were meant to tread. The
ultimate relief is finding myself on the periphery of this exhaustive dark fog that had permeated my thoughts, skewed my judgment, stifled my talents and ultimately compromised my goals. The worst part is it
made me trust myself less.
Finally, I am feeling like myself again. It is indeed good news to
feel that dreadful fog lifting, and to be reminded - once again - that
everything will be alright. I had (shamefully) allowed others to hurt me
deeply, even though it is a lesson my mother taught me years ago - if someone
tries to take your joy away from you, you stick it in their ass. Those people
have been successfully removed from my life completely and I certainly wish
them well, regardless of the pain they cause. Earning money these last few
years has been challenging, and now I'm finally figuring out some ways to earn
that will not only satisfy my basic needs, but also allow for my bigger
projects to take shape. Because, as I see it, if I'm not willing or able to
invest in myself, how can I expect others to do so? My family and friends are
happy and healthy. And my heart feels safe. For the first time in a very long
while - as long as I can remember, in fact - I feel content. It's a strange
feeling for an artist, because very often it's the strife and struggle that
compels us to crawl through broken glass on bare knee to write and sing and
mold something into being, to represent - however trivial - the way this
life can make us feel, in hopes to make sense of the chaos that constantly surrounds
us. As if to help heal the hurt, we howl loudly at times just to ensure someone
around us will hear it and make it better. I know that need for recognition
well. I've been so lost, desperate for consolation and validation. Those were
not my proudest moments, but the fear of being insignificant was real. My struggles were worn like a badge, thinking without them, I couldn't create.
And just like that (snaps
fingers) it's gone. I no longer feel the need to prove anything anymore, to anyone
- especially to myself. I already know I can do it, whatever it is. I've been through the worst of it, and I've come out the other side more myself than ever before. What remains is a white-hot desire to follow through on the
seeds I've planted, with room in my garden for more. I feel more creative and capable in the calm in my heart, then I ever did in the senseless confusion. The next step is the ultimate joy
of watching those seeds GROW.
