Weight off my Shoulders

Or weight on my shoulders, depending how you look at it. For those of you who have never read my work before, my name is Chelsea. I got into writing at a young age, but didn't discover my joy in it until much later in life.

So often I find my writing on my blog surrounding the same things.

We are all, constantly, throughout our life, trying to figure out who the hell we are. Some days are better than others, am I right? Some days we know who we are and where we are going, and some days we just look around wondering how the hell we ended up so lost and confused. So this blog has always been about my journey, generalized.

This year I made the decision that I had things I wanted to change in my life. I knew it wouldn't be easy. Hell, I didn't even know if it was possible. I mean I have been doing the same thing for years now, and coming out with the same results -- which is the definition of insanity right? I have refused to believe that I had any control over things in my life, and the situations that I find myself in. Because, if I admitted that, then I would have to admit that I was not doing everything I could to be happy. But this year, I finally admitted it to myself, and have taken steps towards change.

It is easy to tell someone what it means to be a changed person, but its much different when you are the person doing the changing to understand what it means for you, individually to be changed. Everyone evolves in different ways, the pressure they are placed under transforms them into different gems. We all move at different paces, and are motivated in different forms. This is what makes us all so unique. This is what makes us all capable of our own form of greatness.

I can tell you right now that there are a lot of things I am realizing about how I have subconsciously dealt with situations both past and present, but that is a story for another time, and not the reason I am here.

My point with this post is that as I was talking to a friend the other day, I had mentioned it had been a while since I had written. Being a writer herself, she took interest in the reasons I hadn't. My response was simply that I felt I wasn't in a place to make advice to someone about how to reach their goals, or how to be who they were, or how to evolve; if I, myself, didn't have it figured out.

She gave me the best advice.

You're not supposed to write about the destination, you're supposed to write about the journey. With that, I realized that even if I wasn't where I wanted to be, I still had a story to tell, I still had lessons to share, and I still had a voice to be heard.

With that, I hereby commit to never forgetting that we are all just trying to tell our story, one way or another. And the way I express mine, may be different than the way you express yours. My story is more than just the fire in my eyes when I feel passionate about something or someone. It is more than passing glances, and meaningless phrases. My story is in the way I move about life, carefully calculating every move, hidden spontaneity buried deep inside. My story is told by my actions, it is told by my words, it is told by my hardened exterior softened only by my fingers gently tapping a keyboard.

My story will be heard. Maybe it will be passed down. 

Maybe it will be told in deep conversations with the people I love. 

Maybe it will be interpreted from words sprawled out on a screen. 

Maybe it will be told in narratives around a Family Christmas that I have long since attended.

How will you tell yours?