BEGINNING AGAIN

 

I have a recent realization: the more we age, the harder it is for us to accept our shortcomings. 

It's harder to admit that we no longer operate the same way as we did in our younger years, that our bodies may no longer be as conditioned, that our priorities have changed, that time never just is enough anymore. I guess this is the bittersweet part of growing up - feeling like we lose ourselves in the middle of figuring; feeling like it's never going to be the same no matter how much we chase that feeling of whimsy again. 

A few weeks ago, I cried myself to sleep as I spoke to my husband about feeling like a hamster endlessly running in that cold, rusty wheel. I expressed how drained I felt - that even though I was constantly working on creative things for a living, it was no longer joy that operates my day to day; it felt like I was in repetitive survival mode. I knew that I was coming from a privileged perspective, and I was trying to fight the thought because I know that somewhere around the world, someone is fighting harder than me to get what I am able to enjoy so freely. It was such a struggle to finally admit to myself and finally lay my thoughts down verbally but when I did, I felt so free.

If you know me on a personal level, I am the type of person who value time spent in every single thing I do - whether it be walking on the streets, sharing a conversation, traveling, or simply looking up, I do like to enjoy every single second spent in doing things. I find immense joy in romanticizing things, no matter what it is. And so, with all the transitions in my life these past months, I felt like I had to suddenly grow up and hold more than I usually carry. Unaware that in the process of doing so, I was slowly losing my spark, my child-like wonder, and my joy for simple but very meaningful things. 

At this point, I'm just really grateful. I am thankful how I always somehow find my way back despite the noise and pressure of everyday. I am thankful for that one fateful afternoon this November when I grieved at the thought of realizing how I did not find a sense of excitement when I saw the golden hour or when I feel the wind prance along with the trees when I walk around me - encounters that I always look forward to. Encounters so mundane, yet brings my heart so much joy.

So here I am, admitting that I am falling short in caring for my personal creativity. And here I am, choosing to begin again - and in that process I chose to pour it all out by writing here again and sharing my heart to my first creative space - this blog. I took the time to read my entries here over the past years, and I found myself smiling because it all felt so raw, free from restraint, free from worrying about what people will think. I was not the creative studio startup founder, the educator, the designer - I was just me. This used to be my playground, a place where I get to exercise my random creative curiosities - taking photos, writing about my thoughts and observations, sharing about my travels, and just being me. And I guess after everything that has transpired since my last entry, I still found myself coming back.

It feels so great to be home, typing here continuously and hearing the keyboard clack just brings me so much excitement and joy. It's as if that little voice in my heart is celebrating and welcoming me home after a long journey.

If you're here and reading this, I hope you find your courage to embrace yourself and not be scared to begin again.

Happy Heyday!