Unexpected Closure

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Letting go

I’ve been trying to figure out how to tell my story, and why I felt such a need to tell it, for at least a year now. Nothing really seemed to work or feel right. At least until a certain concert I went to that inexplicably sparked something in my mind that caused the pieces to fall into place. Suddenly, I couldn’t stop writing. I’d been reminded of my roots, of the ways in which my voice is strongest, and it finally felt right, and safe, to say what I needed to.

In telling the story, I wasn’t sure what I hoped to accomplish. I just knew that it needed to come out, one way or another. A couple of nights ago, I finished the first draft of that story and I was surprised to feel not just nervous that people would actually be reading it soon, but also an overwhelming sense of peace. Peace and confidence and serenity that I haven’t felt in almost 5 years.

It will be 5 years since the assault happened next month. Every year I’ve done something on or around the university to take back my power of that day and try to prevent myself from succumbing to the painful memories that can sometimes surface. Last year, I forgot there was an anniversary at all, something I considered, and still do, a victory in and of itself.

This year it seems the anniversary will bring about a piece of work written in my blood and tears. It’s honestly probably the piece I’m most proud of to date. More importantly, writing it brought closure. I can’t tell you what it means to finally feel like I can close the door behind me on this chapter in my life when for years I didn’t think it would be possible to go more than a day without thinking about it, hurting from it.

But that’s what happened. When I came to the end of the word document that held everything I’d gone through…I felt closure. I felt like I can finally move on.

I’ve been wondering at times what the purpose in my coming to Texas was when I’m just going back home to Indy in March, but now I think I know. I needed this. I needed to get away from all of the monsters that held me hostage before, come to a new, untainted environment, and find my voice again.

And I did. I found it, and I’m proud of it, and I’m so incredibly happy that as some sort of miraculous bonus, I’ve finally found closure. I can finally go home feeling happier and lighter than I have in years, and I am so grateful and excited for this next chapter.

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Ready for the road home…

“I’m a Little Bit On Fire Inside..”

My old pointe shoes

I feel too much. I always have. It’s hard to describe it but it’s like this ball of emotion that sits in my chest, demanding my attention, demanding that I do something to sate it. 

I’ve tried so many things to get rid of it; ignoring myself, self care techniques, even changing my life to counteract it. But it follows me everywhere. It followed me 1,000 miles to TX. There’s no escaping it. 

And then, out of no where, it hit me. This is the same feeling I used to have as a kid and a teenager. But I didn’t remember it torturing me like it does now, and I realized that’s because I had an outlet for it. I poured that over abundance of feelings and passion into dance. It kept me going, it kept me alive. 


Since I stopped dancing, a part of me has felt lost, ungrounded. Since I stopped dancing, I felt that ball of emotion in my chest trying to claw its way out, and I tried to make it go away. Whatever passion I had as a kid with dance, I thought was gone, forever. I thought I’d lost my motivation, my purpose for life. 

Then it hit me tonight. This ball of feeling, this screaming vortex of emotion, IS my motivation. It IS that burning ball of passion that used to drive me as a kid. And I do have an outlet for it, I just haven’t been using it. 

Because when I write, that knot disintegrates. It spills out of me onto the page, and I’m able to use it to write what I need to say and then leave it behind. Writing keeps me alive, and my feelings have been telling me this whole damn time when I need to do it, when I most need that outlet, and I haven’t been listening. 

But here, alone, in TX, away from everything I know and love, I can hear it so clearly. And I can use it again to light a fire under what I love and reignite my life and mind. 

Trying to edit a book with a cat on my lap

I can’t believe it took me so long to figure this out, but I’m really fucking glad I did. THIS is what I came here for, to figure out what I wasn’t seeing about myself when I was comfortable and in a familiar place. 

Switching it up

Well, I’m here. In Texas. Have been for about a month now, and it’s been a roller coaster of emotions for sure, but so far, no regrets. Still, it’s a little too close for me to have fully processed and be able to write about in depth yet.
So…in the meantime, I’ve decided on a new kind of layout for this blog. I think instead of just random shit, I’m going to be posting more frequently with “What I’ve Learned” stuff, either with whatever random shit came up that day or that week. Sounds kinda cheesy off hand, but I think I can make it work for me.

So, on that note, here is today’s…

Yesterday I went back to my job delivery pizza after working for a full week on a friend’s movie. I’ve been pretty over this particular pizza job for awhile now but I was NOT prepared for what I felt when I walked through the door yesterday evening. It’s a particularly evil kind of soul crushing atmosphere, the kind where a malicious elephant waits at the door of the establishment to jump up and down on your soul until it is crushed into oblivion and you start to forget your name and shit. It’s awful. Add to that the fact that, despite my having earned a college degree, everyone is treated there and talked to as if they are dumber than a Spongebob character. Despite the fact that I’ve worked there for almost 3 years and therefore, have a reasonable handle on how to do the easiest job in the world, I was bombarded yesterday with waves of condescension. All the joy I’d felt for the past week at doing something new and challenging evaporated when I had to go back to my “real life.”
And that’s when I realized that I put myself there, and that I could get myself out. I can’t control other people and the way they act or treat others, but I can control the environment in which I put myself in. I didn’t move 1,000 miles from home just to do the same fucking job and feel the same fucking way. I moved to grow and challenge myself, and the next step in doing that is getting the fuck out of this job.
So I quit. I walked away, and already I feel a thousand times lighter, as if that soul crushing elephant is nothing more than a pesky fly.

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I’m fortunate enough to have a backup means of income, so I plan on doing that while I focus on my writing (including this blog), finding a job I don’t hate, and meeting new people.
Wish me luck! ❤