College had left me feeling lost, and because I had developed depression during the last six months or so it became increasingly difficult to make friends, stay fit or in shape, or even go to class. I was losing myself and I knew I didn’t like my major or even my minor anymore but I felt stuck with it because I was only a few courses from finishing and I couldn’t tell anyone (parents) that I wanted to change colleges, majors, even bodies. Journalism at one point had been something I had set my mind and heart on. You know, exposing the wrong doings, bringing about justice, seeking out the truth, basically Nancy Drewing it up. But, when I started my first real journalism class, we created Twitter accounts and had class lectures on how to tweet, and professors that began telling us what’s a good story and a good lead and what isn’t. Not going to lie you guys, I immediately felt like “what the f*ck is this.” I saw how even the media nothing really felt like news, it felt more like a fashion and popularity contest.
I wanted to be the next Lara Logan, beautiful, smart, and classy. But, in these courses on telecommunications, professors telling me not to do stories on topics that I had found interesting, and how to make a good tweet, I felt stifled. I no longer wanted to be a part of journalism. It turns out, I just wanted to write. If I could go back, I would have gotten a Bachelor’s in English and a minor in something I just found interesting like astronomy. Side note that I’ve always found the moon and stars and the idea of outer space fascinating.
I’m 25 recently and if I could give advice to my younger self it would be to do more research on your major and go for something YOU want, not something someone else tells you, you should go for. I had listened to my mom who knew I was good at writing but neither of us had really looked into whether journalism would be a sound choice or ask the right questions like “will I be able to get a job? What are the classes like, will I have free rain as far as what I write about?” the answers would have been disappointing. The fact that I had always enjoyed writing had led me astray. Writing equals journalism. Simple. Smart. Absolutely. Wrong.
My life right now is in a state of failure. I have chosen to fail to lose. Because frankly its easier and much less frightening to try. Trying is terrifying. Trying means you have to make yourself move to keep from fading away. And I’ll be honest some days there are pieces of me that want to fight, to keep moving. But its finding that first step. That if I were to decide to fight back, what would that even look like. Would that mean going back to the things I enjoy and not viewing them as something I have to conquer or use against myself.
I convinced myself to give up and hide because it is so much easier not to try. My dream, is to be an author and tell the stories I didn’t get to share, my dream is to have the freedom to create any world I want to inside a five by eight page turner. My dream is work as a writer. But never in my life has that really felt possible because Life has taken writing, something I enjoy and turned it into something I use against myself. Something I see as something I never want to do again. Writing scares the sh*t out of me because I have tried and failed with it before. My mind has convinced me that I am not supposed to even try.
I am unfinished. A creation in the making. I have had these fall backs and letdowns from life itself. At a time of giving up and the moment of realization that you don’t really want to is infinite. Because its this moment that you can create and become anything. Giving up is the healthiest thing you can do because you realize you’re in this place, emotionally, mentally, physically of complete misery. And the best thing to do is stop. Giving up and walking away from sometimes the very thing that is causing you so much grief and most often that “thing” is you. That mindset, that job your afraid to go for, the girl or guy you wont talk to because you think their out of your league, the goals you wont set, the dreams wont cling to, the vision you refuse to see. Its all you. You are the war inside and out. The war you have been fighting in your head shows outside yourself in your life. It shows in mine.