Finding Myself

What 2020 Taught Me

 

I’ve always been a writer

Literally

I started writing as soon as I could hold a pen

Divinely inspired with genuine passion

So Santa brought me a table to write at for my third Christmas

I’ve always been a writer.

But somehow, you come to this planet with a strong

Conviction for who you are and the devil can still

Come along to shake that up

To instill doubt

To tell you that you don’t know any better

And that your dreams are stupid

And you’re worth nothing

 

But the devil is a liar

An none of these whispered thoughts are true

And you have to learn to work past them

So I came to this planet knowing myself

And then life got weird and I got lost

Thinking that nothing would come of this hobby

 

Nobody reads

J.K Rowling was a fluke, a glitch in the system

“If you really want to make your money writing,

You need to make it first and then retire to write,”

All evil hisses

The whispers in my ear telling me I would amount to 

Nothing

 

Yet, I knew deep down that it wasn’t true

Wasn’t true

Even if I didn’t know exactly what I would do

I knew I possess the power to be with the moon

Immortalized by the sun

Cherished by everyone

 

And I found myself blocked from writing

From really creating anything substantial

 

Upon graduating high school, I

Found myself

In love

(For real this time!)

And I 

Found myself

Wanting to party

And I 

Found myself

Wanting to forget

And heal 

And recover

And I 

Found myself

Wanting to experience new things

I was able to go back and enhance and fall in love

With a Cinderella short I’d written in school

Because we were going to shows

Living in the moment

And existing as modern-day, stationary gypsies

I quit tobacco

I quit make-up

I quit my bra

I dreaded my hair and then, I

Found myself

Regretting that.

 

And

Afraid of shaving my head, I ripped them apart

And then cut my hair to my ears

(Fucking, Ouch) (And I’d later shave my head… twice!)

And I published my first book, only to later discover

It was technically unfinished, and would later be

Edited, twice, before becoming a complete novel.

And I waited,

And I

Found myself disappointed that my zombie novella

Didn’t net 10g’s in the first 10 weeks, and I 

Found myself giving up.

“Writing isn’t going to make me money”

“Well, it was worth a try, guess I’ll do something else…”

And I did

 

I started crocheting,

Which I didn’t think would lead to anything, initially

I just wanted to make Pumpkin a set of juggling balls for a music festival.

And then I made myself a shawl… and shorts…

And a top.

And then one of our friends found out about my skill and I

Found myself crocheting her a pair of legwarmers

In trade for a custom hat.

And then I

Found myself thinking I was set

 

I could crochet or a side hustle, make enough to retire

And then, I could spend my days writing

 

 

 

But then I 

Found myself missing writing,

Every time I sat down with yarn and hook I pinned to be

Sitting with pen and book, plume and ink, just words and me.

But that’s not where everyone’s making their money!

Besides, when’s the last time you had an idea, honey?

Thinkin’ this is how you’ll do it is mighty funny!

That evil voice would hiss in my ear, having been

Spoken by mentors, and spoken by peers

Breaking me down, causing me tears

Getting me to chase my tail for years and years

Causing me to live in the shadow of my fears.

 

Lost

So I

Found myself putting crochet on the back burner

To try becoming a hula-hoop instructor

I took the eight-week course, got my certificate

And choked.

Sure, I was young, and tbh, my intentions were

...misaligned

So I found myself

Having spent a fair amount of money and time

On something that I decided to never use.

I found myself

Missing writing, so I turned back to crochet,

Because that makes sense, right?

It did turn out “so well” the first time

*eye roll face palm*

 

That’s your twenties for you (winkie face)

 

I started a GoFundMe

I had big dreams and big goals

I was going to raise the money to start crocheting

Full-time and then once I was at that point, I would

Write,

Right…?

Definitely sound logic.

But the funds didn’t come.

I have a beautiful tote filled with yarn from

My fairy grandmother

But the universe had other plans

And I was lost. I

Found myself writing in the in-between

And I found that I was in love

In love with creating intricate worlds to get lost in 

And share

But for years I had convinced myself that it simply

Couldn’t be done. Simply because

Pop stars are actors and musicians

I had built a reality for myself where writing was not

Viable or profitable or a good use of time.

Oh what a sad and limiting existence for a writer to live in!

But I was convinced…

 

 

And I found myself

Deciding I would be a rapper

Just like Nicki and Iggy and Cardi

I can write. I’m a girl. All I had to do was do it…

Right?

The year before the virus, the universe called me out.

Sent me a challenge to this dream that I could be a 

Cartoon on youtube and entirely circumvent performing.

Oh, delicious delicious twenties. Young and dumb.

Young and dumb.

 

I found myself in the midst of someone active in

The local music scene.

He encouraged me to go to the open mic nights

At the Tea House

If it had been a bar, I would have said no.

But I went to two.

With my best workplace friend by my side

And never having opened my eyes

During each performance.

 

The first was a mess. I choked. I mean, it was my first time.

And then, the second night, 

A month later

The tea house was packed, people were standing

Shoulder to shoulder (ah, the pre-pandemic vibe)

They had talked through the guest artist’s set.

He did this for a living. I was expecting the same amount of respect.

Then it was time for the open mic. My name was 

second on the list

But the first name was absent when called so I 

Found myself going first. Sparkling with sequins

Shaking with nerves.

And I captivated the audience for two songs

Without music

Just my quivering pink energy, naked and vulnerable

On that stage, pouring my heart out in a 

Doors cover and an original rap about

Ultimate Smash Bros

 

(entitled Ultimately Smashing, and I’m still proud of that shit…

“Feelin’ so fly like Kirby, little pink amoeba so no one can hurt me… constantly

Adapting to my surroundings, I’m ultimately smashing

No one can take that away from me, if you try

I’ll kick you off the map, remindin who’s truly king,

So smashing, yeah, yeah, so smashing…)

 

They didn’t cheer until I was done, and the whole

Tea house shook with the applause of 30-50 people

(my eyes were closed, so I didn’t take count)

And then I moved to a rural town with

One gas station, one grocery store, and no music scene.

If I wanted to go to open mics, I would have to 

Organize them myself or drive 45 miles into

The city.

And that’s when I realized that I wasn’t a performer

I didn’t want to tour and play gigs… I wanted to write.

I found myself.

Finally.

 

And upon having the epiphany that I’m happiest writing

I realized that I also deserve a 9-5

I truly love

And I found a good job at an amazing company

Moved back to the city and rented a room in one of the 

Nicest neighborhoods…

It turns out that I had been holding myself back significantly.

 

December 2019.

Corona corona corona

What could there be to fear about a virus named after a beer

Hahahahaha. It’ll never show up here.

 

 

In January of 2020, people started getting sick.

This shit was real now. And as the numbers trickled in

So did the anxiety, at first “if”, and then “when” they

Would shut it all down. 

And then I got sick. It was gnarly. For a week. For a month

I was scared. I never get sick. It made me realize

My mortality. Fuck… 2020 man.

I can’t say what it was, gnarled sinus infection or

Walking pneumonia my guesses (although I’ll never know, never got tested)

After a week, when I was well enough to go back to work

I got put on furlough.

You don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here kid.

It was the end of March, and the universe gave me

April to work on my craft. My passion. My flame.

But what I ended up doing was Instagramming, procrastinating

And walking the dog a lot.

I thought I got a fair bit one, but I could have done better

And when I got that call that I could go back to work

I cried.

I wept.

I found myself wanting to give up completely.

Overwhelmed at the thought of working 40 hours and

Maintaining the progress I had achieved during my break…

And it wasn’t until that moment that I truly

Found myself. 

 

 

After eight years of agonizing over this predicament

It FINALLY sank in that you’ve got to do 

The thing you love and

You can never give up on yourself.

So I went to work, and continue building my empire.

Juggling my work schedule with my commitment to 

My craft and my community.

Sitting hunched in the car in the cold dead of

Morning with my laptop when we moved again and only

Had internet access at the public library.

After 8 years, I finally learned to chase 

The dream because of your passion, not the money.

 

Thanks 2020. It’s been real. And I will never be the same.