on facing fears

I think it is safe to say that the past couple of weeks, I've been the happiest that I've been in a long, long time. For many years, I've felt stuck, in a rut, bored, discontent, what have you -- for no particular reason at all. Sure, bad things happened, and like any other person, I had every right to be upset. But often, nothing was exactly wrong, per se; yet, I didn't feel like myself -- like the carefree, funny, passionate, loving girl that I know myself to be.

I began to wonder whether my depression was not only situational or environmental, but perhaps also chemical. Knowing my family history, that would not be a stretch by any means.

and who knows? Maybe there's some truth in that; maybe I am genetically predisposed to depression.

but I think that there is something to be said about pursuing your dreams, living your passions, and surrounding yourself with the right people.

because I've got to say, I couldn't feel better right now, more content, if I tried. 

obviously, there's gymnastics. And obviously, I am nowhere near as good as I was as an internationally competitive 14-year-old. I can't do standing back tucks on beam anymore (in fact, I am only just working on getting them back on the floor), I can't do handstand pirouettes on the bars, and I haven't even tried vaulting yet, let alone attempting skills like Yurchenkos and Tsukaharas. My center of gravity is off, I am not strong anymore, and I am hardly used to my (naturally) bigger 21-year-old body. 

in the past seven years, I've given up a lot. I think, well, I will never be good enough, or I will never be as good as I was, so I up and quit. I think, man, it's just not worth it if I can't be the best.

but this time (cross your fingers, knock on wood, etc. etc.), I am working my butt off, facing fears daily, and persevering. I'm conditioning like I haven't in seven years. I'm overcoming mental blocks, throwing elements that I've long been afraid of. I get up there on the floor or the beam or whatever, say a quick prayer, like I did when I was 14 and scared, suck it up, and do it. And more often than not, I surprise myself -- in a good way. In a fabulous way. 

I get home exhausted and hungry and sore every night. I eat dinner, ice my wrists and knees, shower, go to bed, wake up, and do it all over again. And I love it. 

and when I don't do that (or go to class or play with Simba, etc.), I write. I've written more in these past two weeks than I have in years, even though you probably wouldn't know that, considering my blogging has been lackluster at best. But I write and I write and I write, and the words come pouring out of my fingers and into the screen, and it makes me so happy I could cry. How many people are so lucky to love something that they are also good at (feel free to disagree)? It's encouraging, you know? Because yes, maybe pursuing a writing career will not be the easiest route for me. In fact, I am sure of it. But I am now convinced that with lots of determination and perseverance, I will make it some day. So each day, I face my fears of rejection and inquire about freelancing opportunities, and you know, sometimes? The answer is positive, and I am happily surprised.

it's the best feeling.

I go to bed happy. I wake up happy. I train and I write. I face fears. I trained and I wrote and faced fears when I was 14, too. Before everything happened. Before I knew and understood the ugly truth about emotional pain.

and for the first time since then, I have a feeling that if I keep trudging along, if I keep myself out of my comfort zone and give the things that I love my all...perhaps things will get even better, yet.

that thought just makes me giddy.