Story beyond the story

I like many people am not perfect. I struggle with life daily. Sometimes I feel like my life is a choice based video game that is timed.

As I’ve gotten older I am now a firm believer that certain things that are put in your life when you are young, are meant to be there for life. For me that was the arts.

My father sings for a living so therefore music was my initial love for the arts. As he kept singing and taking me rehearsals, i loved watching them dance, which was my second second love for the arts.

Fast forwarding a few years I joined band. Loved it. I felt it. The music ran through my veins. I played all the way to college which somehow, my love diminished, or so I thought.

My junior year in high school, the night of the superbowl, i began writing a story that i couldnt get out of my head from a dream I had recently had. More vivid dreams kept coming to me in the next few days that I continued to weasel into the story.

Before I knew it I had 150 pages written.

Fast forwarding to when I was 23. By this time I had no band, no dance, and wasn’t writing. I felt awful. I didn’t feel awful for not doing these things, better yet, I felt awful because because I wasn’t doing any of them. Let me explain.

Myh life never revolved around the arts. I could go about life without them. But it’s when I stopped doing them that I realized, they were my outlet. And when you don’t have an outlet, things can go very very bad.

I am now 26, and over the past three years I’ve notice myself changing into a more down and depressed person. I’ve noticed the change. It wasn’t until recently that this was the problem. I had nothing that made me happy anymore. I didn’t have a hobby. Something that brings joy to my life.

Believe it or not last year I was thinking seriously about committing suicide because I felt like I was not good enough. My ex had expressed how we would no longer be friends (we broke up on 2015) and it broke me to my core. It wasn’t because I depended on him, it was because i genuinfly felt that i couldn’t do anything right, would never be good enough at anything I did. I’m mediocre at work, im out of shape, I’m not the most beautiful woman, didn’t finish college, and I’m just blah all around. But j decide to try and change.

I knew it would take a while, and I have been patient with myself. Some days are better than others, and that’s ok.

I got back into writing and now I’m stressing about something else entirely, but this is brining joy to my life.

Find what makes you happy in life and stick with it. 😊

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