For most of my life, sadness was a muse for me when it came to writing. I long for something that I didn't have and imagined that once I could "find" it, my life would be worth living and some sort of magical door would open up to a world I only once dreamed of living in. And this worked for me, it really did. I would write about my break-up or what it felt like to be single during the holidays and how I was a self-reliant woman living a carefree lifestyle in Los Angeles but deep down inside I was miserable and envious of anyone who had a loving relationship and a family of their own. I wrote about ways to find happiness while in a general state of unhappiness and how to make the most out of accepting solitude as a reality. I wanted so much and instead of opening myself up to a life of happiness, I closed myself off to my own world of darkness in which I sat, day after day, hoping that one day something would change -- yet part of me was unwilling to let go of my familiar state of disgruntled unhappiness.
In June (about 6 months ago), I decided to change my life and I relocated from Los Angeles to upstate New York. I can't say that something "pulled" me to do this, but I will say that I grew up in New Jersey and felt a longing to be closer to my "roots." All of those dreams of children running free in large, grassy backyards while I stood at the kitchen window, pregnant, barefoot and rolling out pie crust, finally got to me and I realized that perhaps what I was looking for (a partner and a family) weren't going to be easy to find in a city where self-involvement and singlehood were prized possessions. So I took a chance, fully knowing that I could lose my "cool LA edge" and become a boring, conservative woman living in the country and selling my mason jars of homemade canned peaches at the state fair. But I was ok with it. I was ready to leave my little black hole of narcissism and see if I could do something to help myself. I had just turned 30 at this point and somewhere inside, I could feel my biological clock ticking.
Sometime in October, nearly 4 months after first arriving to the east coast, I sat on the couch in my boyfriend's apartment (now our apartment) and cried to him, telling him that I had never been happier in my life. I reflected on our past few months together, how we met in July and quickly fell in love -- and how before him, I had "never felt this way before." I cried because I loved him so much and had never dreamed that I could be so happy, so content, so fulfilled and satisfied that all there was left to do was sick back and enjoy my life. Our life. I told him: "Baby, there is no way it could ever get any better than this."
Then, in early November, I found out that I was pregnant. My boyfriend (then, of 4 months) and I had talked about the idea of having kids and then it what seemed like a second, I was pregnant. We both wanted it, we both dreamed of it, so we made it happen. And since then, things have moved along as they do. We have gone through our process of overwhelm, excitement, fear, bliss -- and so on. And in all of this, something has changed for me. Though I did continue to write articles over the summer, and I dabbled in some of my own creative writing, I noticed that my muse was missing. In the space where I used to go into my dark cave, there was a void. It was as if I had been in a beautiful field all my life but instead of choosing to adventure and explore, I chose to stay under one rock, hidden from the sun and isolated in the darkness and cold. And when I went into the mode that I go into when I want to write, nothing would happen. As I became happier and more fulfilled in my life, my ability to write about unhappiness disappeared. And so, about 7 weeks ago, I told myself I would take a break until I could find a new way to tap into my creativity.
The other morning in bed, in my favorite part of the morning where my boyfriend and I sit in bed and talk about life, I realized that I have changed. My soul has changed. What my soul is searching for has changed. And what my soul (and my voice) has to offer has changed. I grew from a sad little girl into a beautiful and happy woman... and my topics of writing as well as my audience of readers has changed. I no longer have that sad place to go to because it doesn't exist. And though there was some mourning in there for me for a while, I realized that this is what I have waited my whole life for. This here, pregnant and barefoot in my country apartment with the man who IS my heart... is what I have asked for, dreamed about and fantasized about for as long as I can remember. Part of me was afraid that if I fully embraced it, it would disappear and that if I kept my "dark edge" that I could be able to keep myself in check and would create better writing. But what I am finding, as each day goes on, is that for the past 30 years, that state of mind helped me. It helped me create and express myself in a way that helped me move forward. And now that I am in a different space, what I am going to create and how I am going to express myself now will help me move forward into the next spot. Sure, maybe my readers will change and people might not be able to relate to me as much. But it will feel more authentic to me to write from a place that's real and from feelings that are present. I am not who I was two months ago and I am not who I am going to be in seven months. But where I am now is going to evolve and evolve and maybe the key to creative expression is to allow the "muse" to always change. Otherwise, I would still be that sad little girl, in a 30-year-olds body, writing about misery.
So I decided to just write an article about where I am. I am almost three months pregnant. I moved from the city to the country and met an amazing man and my entire life changed faster than I thought was possible. I spend my days moving at a much slower pace and I find joy in folding underwear and getting to know this new part of myself, that, when I allow it to, feels so familiar to me. Do I miss that fast-moving, miserable LA girl? Sometimes. But I am much more interested in seeing how my writing develops from here. But what I am learning these days, as well, is that allowing myself to change instead of fighting it is the key. I haven't written for the past two months because I was angry with myself and resisting the transition that both my mind and soul were trying to make. I wanted things to go one way but they were destined to go another. And when I let them go... when I let myself fully let go of that part of my Ego that wanted to remain sad... I felt happier. And so, I am learning how to write and create and relate to people with a smile on my face instead of tears running down my cheeks. I am writing in the sunshine and allowing the words to come from a place inside me that has never been happier -- but I know this is just a journey and there is more happiness to come.
And at this point, my feedback is simple -- and I wish I had someone to tell me this last year when I was wallowing in my own self-pity. Go out there and find what it is you're looking for. Sure, some people say that you can't "find" something or someone, which is partially true, but if you never put yourself in a situation where something might happen, then nothing ever will. Be open, stop feeling sorry for yourself, and go out there and GET the life you want. Misery loves company but I would much rather be in the company of someone who is happy than someone who is miserable. It is never too late and it is never a good idea to give up. We are all worthy of these deepest dreams and the only way to make them come true is to get up, wipe our tears, love ourselves fully, and step out there into the bright sun no matter how uncomfortable it is at first. Because no matter how good you think it will feel, there is still so much more to come.