If This Is Really It, This Is Starting Over…

“Hit me last night like a ton of bricks,
if this is really it, this is starting over
There’s no should’ve, could’ve, would’ve said this, 
done that, no turning back, no more I wonders
No harm done, no hard feelings,
maybe some other time but gives me some peace of mind
If that was the end of the ride, I’m getting back in line…”

-Hunter Hayes, “Nothing Like Starting Over”

 

I know, I’m terrible at keeping this blog updated. I’ve also been really bad at writing in my journal, but maybe that’s why I’ve been so stressed lately.

However, I’m happy to report that over the last few months, I have had a complete shift in attitude.

And it got me thinking, what if I changed the way I looked at every problem or inconvenience in a different perspective? I’m not saying walk around smiling all the time, like being on too much valium or something, but just to change my perspective.

Maybe, just maybe, things could be different.

As many of you know, I am leaving America, whee I have lived for the last 14 years of my life, and returning to the UK permanently. When my mom and I first received the news that we would have to leave, we were devastated. To be entirely truthful, we were furious, and then the devastation set in.

For the last six to eight months, I have been in constant limbo between the two.

Parts of me just wanted to get into a fight just so that I could take my anger out on someone. I was gunning for anyone who wanted to try pissing me off.

But the thing about anger is that it’s a form of slow poison; it will kill you, but it will destroy you first.

The other part of me has been devastated. One song, one word, could send me into a crumbling, sobbing mess on the floor.

And I’m not a crier. Never have been.

I admit, sometimes, I still cry, or still want to cry.

But my goal now: Focus on the things that make me happy.

If anything gets to the people who want to make you cry, it’s when you decide to be happy instead.

Slowly, it has come to me: this is a chance to begin again. A chance to begin in general, with the freedoms that most people know from birth.

The thing is, I’m not a fearful person, and I’ve been living in fear for years, as has my mother.

And that’s got to stop.

At nineteen, I should be living bravely; speaking up, singing loudly, doing what makes me happy, and figuring out who I am without compromise.

For too long, I have let myself become a piece of furniture in other people’s lives.

I didn’t call so-called friends out on their shit; I let people treat me like dirt, and all because I was scared of rocking the boat.

I just stayed down, like a dog who’d been kicked, and was ready for another boot in the gut.

But as time goes by, the idea of The Big Move has me anxious, in a good way.

New people.

New places.

New chances.

My cousin (who’s more like an Uncle, I guess) wrote to me when I was at a low point and reminded me of something I think everyone should always remember:

“[The] more you travel, the more you realize you
 are not your nationality, but are, in fact, a child of the world at
 large. You will meet the most interesting people in that same
 community, and who knows, maybe even marry one.
 
 I know you’re a smart girl, and wherever destiny takes you, it will be
 the correct path for your life’s great plan, and that you’ll make the
 best of it.

[…]

 To be the person you are worthy of becoming, you will undergo painful
 change, and sublimate it into the next stage of your evolution. You
 will look back on these tribulations and be thankful for them, as it
 will make you the vital and successful young woman that you are
 destined to become.
 
 Be strong, and hit the ground running.”

 

It was that email that changed everything for me, and hopefully, Rupert’s words will change something for whoever’s reading this.

My point, and I guess Rupert’s too, is that you shouldn’t put yourself in a cage. Don’t trap yourself because your scared of embracing the unknown.

I am trying really hard to live by those words, and trying my best to remind myself that in order to get where I want to be, I need to be fearless.

And you should be too.

Speak up.

Do the things you’ve always wanted (unless it’s violent. Please don’t do anything violent. It’s not productive.).

Be happy.

Be brave.

Be inspired.

It’s okay if there are days that suck and make you cry like a baby.

It’s okay if there are days where you want to scream in someone’s face because nothing’s going right.

But when life hands you those moments, it’s up to you to turn it around.

When life knocks you down, don’t wait for the next blow.

Get up.

Jump up with as much vigor and passion as you can, and go boldly into the unknown.

Be scared.

Take a flight that will break your heart.

Meet new people and see new places.

Get drunk on the feeling of change and let butterflies flutter through the thick knots of ropes twisting in your stomach.

Embrace it.

Whatever destruction you face, let it happen.

Let the walls that have become so familiar, that you’ve decorated with your fears and your dreams, let them fall. Let them crumble around you and sink into the sea.

Then, stand up, and build a fantastic frame that will shelter you, but will not encase you.

The phoenix does not fear death, nor does it remain a pile of ashes.

It rises from the ash and the soot.

The nebulas in space do not fear their destruction, because to become bright, burning stars, they must explode.

So this is it.

This is starting over.

It’s scary and it’s emotionally draining.

But this is it.

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