“Life is not about waiting the storm to pass, but learning to dance in the rain.”
Almost 20 years ago, I lost my brother to an unexpected pulmonary embolism. He was only 28. Last year I lost one of my best friends to cancer. It was a brave and painful battle. She was only 46.
My brother and my friend never knew each other, but they both shared one thing in common: they were both full of life. They were both that kind of person that you could say they knew how to live. Oh, yeah, they did! And they enjoyed every single moment of it. Life for them was precious and treasured. A joy, an on going party or celebration. A means to experience different things. Some times not that easy, but always worth living.
When I had to deal with their losses I could not help but to wonder why life ended so soon for them. Why two people who actually exhale life and enjoyed so much being alive had to die while I, a person who seems to struggle with every breathe I take, am still here, not living but just surviving. I know it is never fair to compare and that the neighbor’s grass is always greener, but it is such a brutal contrast that it is unavoidable. Why someone like me is still here and they are not? How come?
And no, I haven’t come up with an answer yet but right now I am guessing I am still here because I have a lesson or two to learn on how to live and enjoy every single moment of it. A lesson in how to enjoy the strawberries, lemons and the blueberries. A lesson to treasure my experiences and make the most of each one of them. A lesson to enjoy living, not only surviving.
It must be it. It could only be it.
Since I was a little girl I am into fashion. Always loved to read fashion magazines and follow what was going on in this world. But more than being a fashion lover, I adore clothes and accessories. They are things that bring me joy. I don’t have an easy taste, let’s call it like that, so I don’t own a lot of pieces. But most every piece I have, I love. Because I do like to be surrounded and dressed by pieces that put a smile on my face.
Besides that, clothes and accessories are like perfume to me: they evoke memories. Every single piece I have remember me of something: a date, a day, an event, a person, a celebration, a thing. And it can be something regular or something pretty special or something in between. It doesn’t matter. What matters is that I love the idea of having pieces in my closet that have stories to tell about a moment in my life, a piece that when I look at I can remember. I like the idea of wearing clothes and accessories that mean something, anything to me.
Like this dress. The first time I ever wore it I was video chatting (for the first time ever) with a dude I had just met through a dating app. And it was a pretty good talk. Every time I look at it in my closet I remember it. With a smile on my face.
And yes, I am on instagram. Follow me there @teamafter47.
For the last few days every time I sit down to blog (here and at my other blogs Been Caught Styling), blank is all I see in mind. I cannot think of any subject that I want to write about. And yes, I have a pretty long list of possible topics, but the thing is I don’t feel inspired to write about anything that is on those lists. And because of it, I don’t. It feels like no words are coming to me to write. It is a total and honest blank.
The same happens with my other writings: a screenplay and a book. But here the case is even deeper and more complex. Here I keep on postponing to write because I am terrified to do so. And I can feel it in my bones. It is not only a blank feeling, although it is also. Because every time I consider writing I think it will not be good enough, that my writing sucks, that I will never be able to put into words this story that is playing on my mind nicely for months… And yes, I do think I have a pretty good story. For both cases. And still… here I am stuck, paralyzed, not going anywhere.
And yes, I do have this love-hate feeling when the subject is writing. It is something I would love to do but perfectly and I hate because I always feel it is not going to be good enough, because every time I write, it is not as good as I thought it should be. The process is a struggle. It is never enjoyable and sometimes, I don’t even know how I came up writing something after all. I am that messy.
15 years ago I started blogging on Men’s Style. It was a subject I was passionate about and the fact that I was going to blog every single day made me thought this was the perfect way for me to unblock my writer’s block state of mind. And then finally I would overcome my writing fear and give voice to my stories at last. I blogged for 11 years, every day, basically. And yet, no book or screenplay was written. That never helped me, au contraire, just kept me away from it. What a surprise.
And here I am again, blogging as my way to attempt to make peace with my writing once again so I could finally write my stories and yet… not a single word was typed. Not a surprise.
Repeating patterns is not a new thing for me. Breaking them it is. And that is my goal here. Because deep inside I feel that I need to voice my stories, give life to my screenplay and books. That is what I am suppose to be doing. That is my bliss.
Even if deep inside I do believe I might suck on that.
“Take, learn, let go, accept, move forward.”