A Big Step

I submitted an application today. In fact, I sent it in about two minutes ago. I have visited the webpage for this application dozens of times since learning about the program behind it, and I had always come very close to clicking the “submit” button, but never did it.

Today, I couldn’t sleep, I was sick all morning, and I woke up feeling anxious and fidgety. I tried everything I usually try when this happens: eat something, drink some coffee, meditate, take a shower, splash some cold water on your face, do more suggested methods of anxiety reduction until you finally realize that this horrible feeling isn’t going anywhere because it’s being caused by something more specific: the sense of loss. The feeling of self-destruction, the feeling of dishonesty within yourself.

I opened the page. I didn’t think, I just filled out the short form. I wrote a brief paragraph about why I was interested in the program and I tried not to edit it too much. I wanted it to be the true reason, not the reason that I wanted people to hear. If I was going to apply to this program with the idea of “being honest with myself,” then I was going to start being honest with everyone.

There are very few people in my life I would say I am honest with. In fact, I would say there is really only one. This is not for lack of trying. I have made an effort to be truthful with people close to me about my doubts, my aspirations, my curiosity about my options, but they usually are not interested in hearing about alternatives. They want to see me on a secure path, which I can appreciate as them being caring, but it can be hard to feel pressured into a safe situation that bores me to death.

Here is the honest truth: there is a path I chose to take that I began to doubt before I even started it. My research, my experience, and my logic told me that this path could benefit me, but it may not push me to the best that I could be. That thought devastated me. I knew then that I would struggle with the balance between security and prosperity for a significant part of my life. I begged for counsel from those closest to me, and only found concern for my financial well-being, not my happiness. I saw that I was the only person who could honestly see what happiness meant to me and what I would need to do to achieve it.

So I hit the submit button at 9:27am on July 20th, 2018. The morning I took the first step towards my happiness, even if it meant a step away from security. Being secure, being financially stable won’t mean anything without a fulfilling life. I know I won’t feel fulfilled if I lie to myself and refuse to even entertain alternatives because those around me see them as “radical” and “on the bleeding edge.” They don’t understand that that’s exactly where I want to be.


Writing: It’s REALLY Hard

Some days, I just don’t want to write. It’s a fact of life, it’s called burnout, it’s pretty standard. Today is one of those days. I had a fantastic first day at my intensive. Compared to last year, my instructors are a lot kinder and more diverse in their training styles. The only difficulty is that every class is taught in French.

I like to look at it as a challenge though. Similarly to this blog, I really did not want to do that. I wasn’t super eager to take classes taught in another language, but I also knew I needed to learn that language quickly. So, I’ve been doing my best to take my frustration with the linguistic divide and bridge the gap with perseverance and patience.

Other than that, I had dinner with my dad, who will be leaving Montreal soon. I did some work for a very important person who I have a phone call with tomorrow. I would like them to feel as though I have already added value to their project, so I am up late making sure that will be the case.

Like I said, I see all of these things as challenges. Writing when I don’t want to, learning new styles of dance in a foreign language, and working really late to get a dream job. They’re demanding, they’re not necessarily the most enjoyable activities, but they reach towards a common goal: happiness.


Write Your Truth

Someone I look up to once said: “we all speak our truth, whether we know it or not.” I found a lot of comfort in that, in knowing that my truth was always there, supporting me. It’s one thing to speak and know that what you actually mean is there, either in the shadows or in the light, but it’s another thing to write it.

Writing your truth is difficult. Through writing, you can manipulate your reality. In writing, there is no body language, no inflection of the voice (if you so chose), no atmosphere or gauge of tension that is present in a conversation. As writers, we must learn to write the truth that stands behind the curtain we rely on when we talk. We must fearlessly present our ideas, or we risk lying to the world and to ourselves.

You have every right to lie. To hide behind what you want the world to see yourself as, what you want your truth to be. Maybe you’re lying because you think it will change your reality. I believe this is flawed; perhaps it worked for you, but I don’t think it’s sustainable. There is a peace that comes with acknowledging and accepting your current situation, especially if you’re unsatisfied with it.

Write your truth, write it boldly, write it with passion and emotion, write it uncomfortably, write it to feel vulnerable, write it to give hope, write it to find it. Write to release your anger, your fear, your frustration, your dissatisfaction, your heartbreak, and your destruction. Writing is cathartic. There is something beautiful about offering a piece of your heart to an audience, to a group of people who you may never meet or know.

I write these blogs selfishly. They have become a nightly ritual and something I look forward to. After getting over the fear of it, I have come to appreciate that I can write my truth. I have a desire to be honest with the world, even when it doesn’t ask me to.



Emotions. Mine have been blocked for eighteen years. I finally started to acknowledge and act on them right before I graduated high school. Most of the people around me have begun to resent me for it.

I still get my work done, I still seek out opportunities, and I still focus on improving myself as a person. On top of this, I am happier than I have been in a long time and I have no doubt it’s because of my new connection with my thoughts and feelings. I’m spending time with the people I care about most, speaking my mind, and being honest with myself.

I graduated summa cum laude, rarely went out with friends, never partied or drank or did ridiculous drugs. I was a perfect daughter for eighteen years, but the second I did something that was out of turn, I became a monster. All of my redeeming qualities gone, all of my accomplishments out the window. I lost the freedom that I thought came with perfection. Of course, it turned out that that freedom was only another form of imprisonment.

For the first time in my life, I feel as though my thoughts are being discredited before I am even able to speak them. Everyone has advice on ideas I haven’t even had yet. They practically trip over themselves to tell me to take advantage of my youth, to be smart about my options, to leave love for the later years. Not a single one has stopped to consider if the thoughts they are offering wisdom on have even come into existence. They don’t wait to think if I have been given the space to nurture those ideas on my own.

It won’t be long before I am actually free, still, it feels like forever. Sometimes the passing events have a funny way of showing you how your past was never the way it seemed. I yearn for the days of ignorance and love. I yearn to rid myself of the hate and anger that accompanies realization.

All in due time.