It's unfortunate that I'm half-awake and have to write this now in order to fulfill my challenge to myself, because I wish I was a lot more awake to be brilliant at writing the things I wanted to write, and that there is a sentence to prove that I will not be as eloquent as I wish to be right now.
So today was a crazy day. I had too much to do, and not enough time to do it in. It was my first day working in the outreach program I'm doing part-time in. It's not a full-time job, which is awesome, because it means I can still contribute something and stay active, but not have to worry about overload right now. After that, I visited Alex for lunch, rewrote Chapter One, had a meeting with my mentor Nancy, and then Mom and Dad and I went to the Lindsey Stirling concert.
Surprise, it was an amphitheater. Surprise, it was a gorgeous night. Surprise, I like Lindsey Stirling.
That girl. Like holy God, she's so creative. She has gorgeous outfits, and she dances like a madwoman ballerina on crack while she's wielding these crazy violin skillz, and the stage is exploding with all this stuff she's thought up and has been plastered onto the digital background behind her. And people loved it! People were like, "Yeah Lindsey Stirling, you vomited everything you love onto this stage and we totally think it makes sense and love it!"
The part of the night that really hit me was when she stopped playing music and had a "real talk" with us. She said that everyone always thinks she has always loved herself and that she's perfect. She says that in her twenties, she battled depression. She hated herself. She was in a rut and she hated looking in mirrors. But then she made a change. And now look at her.
Usually these stories don't really hit me very hard. I think it's sort of trite to be like, "Guys I'm famous and lookee me now!" But something about the creative spark in Stirling, something about her originality and her youth ... or maybe just something about where I am in life right now ... it hit me really hard.
I guess this is where I get serious with you.
I don't talk about this publicly, so the idea of doing it here is terrifying. I've never wanted to be that person with a blog who gripes about the things she's gone through. This is a writing blog, not a therapy blog, but I'm starting to think that perhaps the two are connected. I know, I should have made that connection earlier?
I don't feel comfortable getting into details, but I've struggled with my own demons. And I'm taking steps every day to allow myself to be happy. To allow myself to believe in what I am and who I am and what that entails.
There was a time not too long ago that I'd given up on myself. All of those things I wanted to be when I was a kid was stupid frivolous dreams. I needed to be more practical.
Why is it so hard for us to allow ourselves to be happy? Why is it so difficult for us to believe in ourselves?
My mentor said today it was because we were all from a Puritanical society.
My mentor also said something else today: that I have something to offer.
I'm trying to believe that. I'm trying to get myself to the point that Stirling is at. I'm waking up every day and allowing myself to have a good, happy, and yes sometimes selfish life. I've gone so far trying to erase myself by giving giving giving to others.
Now it's time to bring me back. Now it's time to write.
But actually, right now? It's time to sleep. G'night!