I can remember a year ago, the majority of the words that came out of my mouth were "I wish", "I want," and "I should." I was so focused on the life that I wanted, that I wasn't living it.
I was living in the future, imagining a lifestyle that I knew I deserved but felt as if I didn't deserve it quite yet. Therefore, my current state was surely not living up to my expectations.
I was living with the dark cloud above my head known as self-doubt and anxiety, something every artist encounters.
I used to think that I wasn't making any moves purely because I wasn't ready for it, in my own eyes. I wouldn't be able to do something just right or perfect, so I wouldn't even attempt it.
I came to realize that perfection will never be accomplished in one's own mind. There is always room for improvement, so it's better to just do what you love and to not worry about if it's good or not. What really matters is if you're satisfied with what you're doing in your spare time.
I also discovered by just getting started on new hobbies and practicing my skills; intermingling them within my daily routine started to become a new way of living. My new way of living.
When I was a child, I was an avid reader, mainly whenever my family went on road trips. My mom taught me the importance of reading, and I always knew that "reading took you places" without even having to leave your house. Transitioning into middle school and high school, I lost sight of my love for reading, probably because we were forced to read for a grade. I'm a slow reader and prefer to keep up with it at my own pace.
In college, after taking a Writing Children's Stories course last year, my professor basically got us in the habit of reading novels. One novel every two weeks, which was doable if I saved a day on the weekends to get into it. I forgot the gratifying feeling of thoroughly finishing a book, rather than Sparknoting one or watching the movie for it.
I felt like I was embarking on little adventures. I told myself that I wanted to read more while also navigating the realm of writing. I wanted to give myself that sense of escape, and maybe even one day provide that experience for someone else.
This past summer, I bought a bunch of self-help books. By reading a chapter a day, it helped me to get into the routine, and also helped to make me a better morning person. Now, I'm into spiritual and philosophy-based books. After I finish this information-hungry journey, I'll ease my way back into novels and short stories.
I have always kept a journal; most times, my writings were inconsistent and consisted of various genres. They were never finished. I'd write whenever I would want to, mainly during my summers, when I had some more free time.
When I was a child, I gravitated towards writing short stories. My parents told me that I had an imagination that I could put to use. Growing up, that spark slowly diminished in the educational world of essays and reflection papers. I spent my free time watching TV and movies to fill out the areas I wanted to escape from.
But what I learned is that, if I want to call myself a writer, I needed to write even when the timing doesn't feel quite convenient. In order to maintain balance in my life and pour out all of the cooped-up emotions, writing needs to be squeezed in. I made that happen.
I've always been scatterbrained. When I write, it gives me a feeling like I have it together.
I've started and have been keeping various journals, each serving a different purpose for my own organization. While I'm at work, I find inspiration in customers sometimes, so I have to write down the words that they've said, sketch what they looked like, or write something annoying, funny, or interesting that they did that caught my attention on receipt paper. Even at my busiest times, I think about writing.
I also have started a poetry journal that I keep next to my bed. I never would've considered myself a poet, since I've never found interest in reading poetry. But in a Creative Writing course, I found that writing my own version of poetry served as a form of nourishment. I choose to do just that for myself.
A friend of mine that I met in college writes letters to God in order to cope with his emotions. I found inspiration in that. When I write reflective pieces, I write to a source above any of us. The Universe, or God.
Whatever is on my mind, I need to see in words. At times, I can't really make sense of what is going on, but by seeing it on paper, it puts things into perspective for me. I understand myself a little more.
I believe that by doing the things that feel right, activities that help to serve our own growth, need to be incorporated into our lives every day. Even when we're busy, or fed up with the world. Even more so when we're fed up with the environment we are in.
To me, reading and writing help to fill in the gaps in my life. Writing allows me to make sense of the world around me and helps me to figure out my place in it. My purpose is being fulfilled, and I can honestly say I'm proud of who I am becoming.
We are constantly changing, so yesterday's excuse no longer fits today.
I no longer wish. I make it happen.