I’ve been reading BWOB for maybe 6 months now since I clicked over thanks to DJ So Super Sam and let me tell you… every time there’s a new post, a new humble woman looking within to explain what drives and inspires her, every time there’s a new story of a personal dream becoming a hard-earned reality, a story of passion and becoming and snowballing and working so fucking hard for something that seemed small but means so much more — I feel the world’s affirmation of life as journey meant for finding instead of seeking.
These past couple of weeks have been trying in quite the strange way. Reality just blew up on me as I walked through the front door. Since then I’ve had a hard time wrapping my head around the nature of things out of my control. And with graduation right around the corner, well let’s just say my anxiety has been getting the best of me. I haven’t been the best person. I’ve been selfish and petty and not so generous and not so genuine and not so kind and man oh man have I been looking for comfort in the wrong places. I’ve even been describing this funk with the wrong terms: “Life right now’s a drag.”
I’ve been feeling fucked up and letting myself drown in it. and why not, I’ve asked myself. “Life right now’s a drag.” Reality, in my eyes, was too fucking much to handle.
Oooooo child but the little things, the little things! How could I forget this so easily. The crazy thing about life being too good is that sometimes it can be too good and it makes you forget the fight inside yourself you have each morning. Will I be better than I am feeling today?
The funny thing is that I started thinking about this in part because of a South Park gif (#5 — you go, Butters) and a Charlene DeGuzman post… yet another example of how what you need can sneak up on you sometimes.The little slivers of hope that refused to let me believe that I am this muck of a person. Like coming home and opening up to a roomie who made me feel like I wasn’t alone. Like loving and careful words from someone who is facing a deeper struggle. Like the unconditional support from my parents, and ultimately, from a universe that continues to kick me in the gut — if only to remind me that life is supposed to be a fucking grind. You’re supposed to hustle. And not just in terms of my career aspirations — but you’re supposed to hustle to love. You’re supposed to hustle to keep your peace of mind. You’re supposed to hustle to lift your spirit, so you can hustle to lift the spirits of others with your beautiful, unique gifts.
And that’s really what BWOB is to me — the small, rich triumph of the genuine, tired, creative, driven, beautiful women saying YES to this vulnerability in order to serve others with the whole of their heart. Despite this struggle. In spite of this struggle. Badass chicks who walk the walk and talk the talk with a humongous smile on their face because they choose each morning: I will fight the good fight.
And when I think about this in terms of my career (besides OH SHIT), I know there are no answers to that dogged question of what I’ll do after I graduate. It’s a choice to make the most out of each situation I’m in and opportunity I find. It’s a choice to be positive and optimistic. It’s a choice to give myself to others. It’s a choice to be good to myself while working towards a purpose. It’s a choice to let exploration and passion and hard work be the name of my game — because it’s brought me good fortune thus far, and good people, and good memories. At this point it feels so far away, but Oregon wasn’t a dream — it was a rocket blaster of “DO THIS IT MAKES YOU SO HAPPY!!!!!!!!!!!!”
If BWOB has taught me anything, it’s that the most powerful things often started small…
Time to hustle.
There’s so many weird yet good things this makes me feel. Life is weird and I am weird and I should go to sleep. I guess throughout this whole post I’m just saying that BWOB rocks and you should read it too. But mostly, just thanks for the inspiration.