Fresh Start
Today I "should" be graduating from college.
I'm "supposed" to be walking across the stage and receiving a piece of paper that states I have taken the required classes and passed the required tests to receive a BFA in Jazz Dance, with a minor in Musical Theatre.
That's how today was "supposed" to play out.
However, life had other plans for me.
My story is not one of someone who went to high school, went to college, graduated, and then got a job. That was not my destiny.
And honestly, I'm pretty sure I'm a lot happier than most who follow that path.
Growing up, I was always the kid who did what they were "supposed" to do. I was the "perfect" child - I rarely acted out and always tried my hardest to make my family proud.
High school was an eye-opener. We were expected to be professional and respectful. For those kids who did not grow up in a family where respect was expected, this was great. However, because I already knew how to be all these things, it became a case of "I have the be the most respectful, the most put together, the most responsible."
So I was. And you know what? It didn't get me anywhere. Sure, at times I became the example of what a model student should be - but that just made my need to be the most responsible worse. It didn't make me happier - it usually made me feel awkward and out of place.
College was another surprise: people, even those who plan on going into the same field as me, are not as respectful, mature, and responsible as I expected them to be. I went from being surrounded by high school kids who were mature beyond their years to being surrounded by college freshman that I wanted to smack for seemingly not having an ounce of sense in them.
Freshman year came and went and was rather un-noteworthy. As I have a habit of doing, I became injured and took the last half of second semester off, watching classes and taking notes.
I met a boy Sophomore year and fell in love. I found a great group of friends and was the happiest and most comfortable I've been in a long time. Conversely, I became more and more depressed as the year wore on and started skipping classes. Even when I became to emerge from the depression, I couldn't make myself go to class because I had missed so much, which in turn made me more depressed. Halfway through second semester I dropped out completely and left my apartment less and less. By summer I wasn't sleeping and didn't leave my apartment unless it was to escape to my boyfriend's house or go to work.
I took the next semester off - for once doing something because it's what I wanted and needed and not because it was what I was "supposed" to do - with plans to either return to UArts the following semester or transfer to Drexel. It became more and more obvious to me though that staying in Philadelphia was toxic for me - I thought about killing myself every single day and I was dangerous for myself if I was left alone at night.
I knew I needed to more home.
In the year and a half since then, everything has changed.
The Pacific Northwest is where my soul belongs. If Philadelphia was full of toxins I was breathing every day, the Northwest was an oxygen bar cleaning out my system.
Moving home saved my life, in more ways than one.
My depression lifted - not all at once, but slowly I could see beyond it. A huge part of that was taking classes again. Before leaving Philadelphia, I was ready to give up on dance completely. I had been so unhappy at UArts and I attributed that to my heart not being in dance anymore. But once I came home and started taking class again, I realized how untrue that was. Dance taught me how to live again. Every class I want to was hard, especially after taking a year off and losing so much technique and flexibility, but I made myself go. Every drive home that was full of tears was a step closer to finding myself again.
After trying to keep things working for too long with my boyfriend, I ended things. I loved him with all my heart, but it had turned unhealthy. To be honest, I'm sure the relationship did not help my depression while I was still living there. It's been a few months since we broke up and he still hates me, but I feel so much more free now.
I thought today would be hard. I wrote all this out, expecting today to be one I didn't want to face.
However, today is May 21st and it's a great day.
Sure, I'm not graduating today. But I'm more okay with that than I think I realize. I'm happy and I'm healthy and I'm living.
In the past my goal was to learn a lessoninlove.
Now my goal? Remember that I only have onelife_left to live and to live it to its fullest.
I'm "supposed" to be walking across the stage and receiving a piece of paper that states I have taken the required classes and passed the required tests to receive a BFA in Jazz Dance, with a minor in Musical Theatre.
That's how today was "supposed" to play out.
However, life had other plans for me.
My story is not one of someone who went to high school, went to college, graduated, and then got a job. That was not my destiny.
And honestly, I'm pretty sure I'm a lot happier than most who follow that path.
Growing up, I was always the kid who did what they were "supposed" to do. I was the "perfect" child - I rarely acted out and always tried my hardest to make my family proud.
High school was an eye-opener. We were expected to be professional and respectful. For those kids who did not grow up in a family where respect was expected, this was great. However, because I already knew how to be all these things, it became a case of "I have the be the most respectful, the most put together, the most responsible."
So I was. And you know what? It didn't get me anywhere. Sure, at times I became the example of what a model student should be - but that just made my need to be the most responsible worse. It didn't make me happier - it usually made me feel awkward and out of place.
College was another surprise: people, even those who plan on going into the same field as me, are not as respectful, mature, and responsible as I expected them to be. I went from being surrounded by high school kids who were mature beyond their years to being surrounded by college freshman that I wanted to smack for seemingly not having an ounce of sense in them.
Freshman year came and went and was rather un-noteworthy. As I have a habit of doing, I became injured and took the last half of second semester off, watching classes and taking notes.
I met a boy Sophomore year and fell in love. I found a great group of friends and was the happiest and most comfortable I've been in a long time. Conversely, I became more and more depressed as the year wore on and started skipping classes. Even when I became to emerge from the depression, I couldn't make myself go to class because I had missed so much, which in turn made me more depressed. Halfway through second semester I dropped out completely and left my apartment less and less. By summer I wasn't sleeping and didn't leave my apartment unless it was to escape to my boyfriend's house or go to work.
I took the next semester off - for once doing something because it's what I wanted and needed and not because it was what I was "supposed" to do - with plans to either return to UArts the following semester or transfer to Drexel. It became more and more obvious to me though that staying in Philadelphia was toxic for me - I thought about killing myself every single day and I was dangerous for myself if I was left alone at night.
I knew I needed to more home.
In the year and a half since then, everything has changed.
The Pacific Northwest is where my soul belongs. If Philadelphia was full of toxins I was breathing every day, the Northwest was an oxygen bar cleaning out my system.
Moving home saved my life, in more ways than one.
My depression lifted - not all at once, but slowly I could see beyond it. A huge part of that was taking classes again. Before leaving Philadelphia, I was ready to give up on dance completely. I had been so unhappy at UArts and I attributed that to my heart not being in dance anymore. But once I came home and started taking class again, I realized how untrue that was. Dance taught me how to live again. Every class I want to was hard, especially after taking a year off and losing so much technique and flexibility, but I made myself go. Every drive home that was full of tears was a step closer to finding myself again.
After trying to keep things working for too long with my boyfriend, I ended things. I loved him with all my heart, but it had turned unhealthy. To be honest, I'm sure the relationship did not help my depression while I was still living there. It's been a few months since we broke up and he still hates me, but I feel so much more free now.
I thought today would be hard. I wrote all this out, expecting today to be one I didn't want to face.
However, today is May 21st and it's a great day.
Sure, I'm not graduating today. But I'm more okay with that than I think I realize. I'm happy and I'm healthy and I'm living.
In the past my goal was to learn a lessoninlove.
Now my goal? Remember that I only have onelife_left to live and to live it to its fullest.