A Year To Remember

This has been a year of many things...

After working hard all last year, I moved to the city I fell in love with and made a new life for myself. I packed everything I own, moved in with a lover, acquired numerous friendships with fantastic people, found a job, quickly became successful, ended said relationship, found a new place to call my home, and settled into the beautiful apartment in which I now reside. 

One week in, and halfway through the year, I lost the only thing I've ever loved more than myself... 

 

That's him. 
Buster Boy. 

My sweet little slice of angel pie. 

But I'm not here to talk about him... not yet. I'm not ready for that. 

What I've realized is, I need to write. 
I think if I didn't write, I would go insane. Evidence of this being that I haven't written in quite some time, and, well... AHHHHHHH! ... you get the picture. I'm feeling a bit nutty! I'm overwhelmed and stressed, lost and broken, yet happy and living and making the best of every. single. moment. As only one in pain can... I'm trying. 

I used to write quite a bit! I'd stay up all night, pouring my heart out and writing for me, and ONLY me. If people didn't read it, great! If they did, even better! But it didn't particularly matter to me... though I loved the praise and attention, my main focus was to release some of the many, many emotions and feelings I deal with on a daily basis. I feel a lot, and often. While this has been quite beneficial to my songwriting and ability to be in a management position in customer service as a career (mouthful, insert dirty joke here, blah blah blah...), it has also been a burden that I sometimes simply cannot bear. Writing is my outlet, my therapy. I literally need it. 

Sooo... what's the problem, Shaneil? Just write! 

Ah. And here's where it gets tricky. 

After blogging for about a year, I began to rely on the attention. I try to tell myself I do things for myself, but I often get caught up in the need to please people. I started worrying about my writing... was I funny enough? Clever enough? Was my blog too long? Too boring? Too scatter-brained? Too this, too that... when really, what the hell does it matter?! I write for ME. I write to breathe. I write to sustain a healthy outlook on life and relieve the stresses of said life. Yes, I write to share. I write because I feel a responsibility to express my art. But what is art to an artist if it's for someone else? Art is personal. So it's scary... but it fails to be genuine if done for anyone but yourself.

So, here I am. Back at it again. A bit rusty, but ready. This year has taken me to the highest highs and the lowest lows... and it's not even over yet. I've experienced a lot so far, and am ever growing and ever responsive to the lessons life hands me. One such lesson that I've learned, and finally accepted, is that I DO WHAT I WANT. Seriously! I do what I want. It's my damn life, these are my choices, and the consequences of my actions are, you guessed it, MINE! So if I want to uproot my life for the 2nd time in less than 2 years, I will. If I want to hold on to hope for things I've wanted for years, I will. If I want to crash and burn through heartache, I will. And when I'm ready to pick the pieces back up, I will. And I will survive. Whatever I want to do, I'll do. 

BECAUSE I CAN.