On Monday, for the first time in two years, I went to my first choral rehearsal.

The last month has been a whirlwind of my ambitions sweeping me off my feet again. Part of me is feeling alive again, while another part of me is terrified that I'll get overwhelmed. It's as if Kat is the upbeat running around anime girl with her arms waving back in a blur of excitement, and Kathryn is the meek girl with glasses who follows along, holding onto her sleeve, hoping to all heck that it doesn't end in disaster like she's been led to expect. "Please, be careful Kat. You remember what happened last time? You couldn't play or sing for 2 whole years."
"Oh, please, Kathryn, we'll be fine! Just look at this! We can go back to school full time online, study German, and Music, and become a teacher, and...!"
"But what about my job? What if you need too much time and we can't do it all?"
"We'll make it work! We're not in a bad situation anymore! Do you feel that music? That's what this is all for!"

I thought that after high school, the tingling I get from choir and music in general would never come back. I thought it all would get pushed down. Maybe, if I tried hard enough, I could push it so far down, that I wouldn't ever make myself look silly again. All I could think was that my little quivers and squeals when the song's chords moved my soul... that I would have to control it. To not let myself be vulnerable any more.
That was possible when I was at college. I had lost myself. I didn't know how to let music touch my heart like it always had. I smiled when I sang, but it was hollow. I tried so hard to fit in that I forgot what it felt like to get swept away by the unity and beauty of different voices joining together. So I became a stone inside.

So now, when I thought I'd forgotten how to love music... to go to choir rehearsal and feel again... When all the colors of the music hit me like the weight that I'd been carrying around, I quivered. My body moved of its own accord. My eyes widened and my head seemed clear again.
"See, Kathryn?" Kat smiled radiently, "It's safe. We're going to be okay. This is what it is all for."
And once again, Kathryn believed it, with a tiny smile at the edge of her lips and tears falling from her eyes. "We were so broken. You were so scared. You thought you had lost me, Kathryn. I'm still here. Don't try to push me down anymore, okay?"

So I let myself be loved by the music, and let my heart love it right back.  It's all one day at a time; the healing won't happen all together, but it will happen. I will learn to embrace it.

It used to be that writing was the same as thinking to me. I had thoughts, I'd write them. It was how I processed things. I'm not sure if that's the case anymore. People change, so do their thoughts.
Today I am listening to the soundtrack from Rise of the Guardians. It's beautiful, and heroic, and innocent. Music can really convey feelings better than anything.
I used to be so good at that. I used to be so good at conveying my heart through writing music. Then I think that part of me fell somewhere.

You know the Disney movie "Inside Out"? That movie is so true on so many levels. As I grew and learned and experienced new things, (some not so good things) my personality took a tole. Sadness touched my memories. My personality islands fell. "Music Playing" fell. I lost my love for it. I didn't want to do it. It became a chore. Singing hurt. Somewhere along the line "Writing" and "Acting" fell. I still get glimpses of them occasionally. I still have weird longings to learn opera (weird, right?) and I still cry when I hear woodwinds and french horns. But I'm not sure where they went or how to get them back. It's like looking at a reflection of myself and who I should be. It's as if I'm in a hall of mirrors and I see one of my personalities and I run toward it and bang my forehead on the glass. "Hahaha! Sucker! It's too late for you."

This is all so dramatic, right? Get over it. I try to tell myself that. Move on. You have real life to focus on. Your job. Your lack of money. Your bills. How can you make more money. How can you go back to school. How can you get rid of the feeling that music is part of you and something you have to pursue? This is the part where I usually start to feel anxious. I miss having an escape from my problems. I miss feeling normal.

I looked around just now. I was almost surprised to see my little cubical and people walking around. Here in my office in my own little chair. I can't help but feel like there is more than this. Though at the same time I genuinely enjoy my job. I love meeting new people every day. I love getting to see peoples faces and making connections with others.

How do people who listen to music and feel it inside them not feel the need to be involved in it? I can't be the only one who is moved by music who didn't go into a music profession. I also can't be that different. I'm not special. I'm just another person who feels like music is something I should be a part of. I'm not. Not nearly enough.

It's easy to pursue something when everyone is telling you to. In high school people asked me what I wanted to do with my life as a courtesy. They all knew. They all wanted the same thing for me. If I said otherwise they would look at me incredulously and ask me what the heck I was talking about. "Of course you'll keep singing! You have to!"

But... I didn't. I tried. I really did. I "followed my dreams". And the experience I had ruined it all. Being away from my family at college was really hard. Extremely. Dep (which is my nickname/imagined incarnate for depression) decided he was in control. I didn't really connect with anyone. I didn't have a job. My sleeping pattern flip-flopped. I remember drinking 5 cans of mountain dew in a 30 minute sitting because it reminded me of home and Scott. It became my comfort drink. But my mentality continued to plummet. I slept through all my day classes and somehow continued to make it to play practice at night. I had no personal space. No one likes to cry in front of someone they don't trust.
Scott would drive down to see me every other weekend. Honestly it kept me going. Every time he came it was like I felt human again. Then he would have to leave and I'd relapse. My family would come and visit me too. My mom and dad would come and see me and buy me food that tasted like food. I re-read what I just wrote and it sounds like a kind of prison. It wasn't, but it wasn't home.

I think its because I felt my islands falling all around me. I'm still recovering.


Oh so dramatic.

Regaining Normalcy (What led to where I am)

Well, technically this isn't my first day trying to lose weight; it also isn't a "weight loss journal". Its mostly just an account of my thoughts whilst trying to get my life (and body) back to normal. I simply didn't feel the need to write my thoughts down until I realized that was part of my normalcy. I used to write all the time, whatever came to my head. I literally filled notebooks to the brim with my thoughts and ideas. But. That's getting off topic. I'll address that later. Right now I'm going to cover what led to all of this.

The 2015 year was very intense for me. It included lots of different changes relationship-wise between myself and my family. On February 14th, I moved in with my boyfriend of 2 years, Scott. I was raised in a very conservative family of Christian faith. During this time (and much of late 2014) I was doing a lot of "soul-searching" and figuring out how I was going to live my life. A lot of my choices conflicted with what my parents wanted for me. 

Aside from the external conflict that ensued, I was having a lot of issues internally as well. I have been in a battle with Depression since I was about 15 years old. It comes and goes, but it is strongest in the winter when there's a lack of sunlight (and thus, lack of vitamin D). After moving in with Scott, the situation with my parents and my (imagined) judgment from my hometown community increased my depression and turned into anxiety as well. 

Depression in itself for me is a lack of ambition for anything. I would sit in front of the TV for hours; numb. Then the anxiety would flare. I would have as many as 3 panic attacks in a week. My brain would shut down, my body would tense up, I would feel numb and terrified at the same time. I felt constrained, like I was being shoved into a box. A simple hand touch would just make it worse. I remember feeling "too large" for my body. I would ask Scott to stretch my legs and arms so I would fit inside my body better. (That sentence in itself weirds me out a little.)

This sounds probably very strange to you. It is. It's hard to understand even if you've experienced it. It was a major contribution to my weight gain. I would eat my emotions. I remember sitting down and eating an entire pint of chocolate ice cream without even thinking about it. It was something I could control in my chaotic life.

Now I'm not making excuses. If I could somehow transport myself back in time I would probably look at myself in disgust. I simply didn't care about my health.  Every other night Scott and I would eat frozen pizzas. The chemically composed $1.25 pizzas. Partially because it was one of the few foods we could afford, partially because we didn't want to cook. I'm sure I would be much better off if I had just learned to cook. It was our go-to.

That's just a light touch on what led me to where I am now. To be honest I'm surprised I've written this much without giving up. During the last year I have felt incredibly repressed creatively. Which is very different from when I had my original battle with Dep. Then I became more creative than ever. It was my only outlet. 2015 robbed me of every creative outlet I had; music, writing, art, even singing. I rarely sang. Every time I tried I would give up after 5 minutes. I've been writing for the last half an hour now. That's insane to me. I can only hope this healthy creativity and hope stays this time. It's been a long time.

Next time I should tell you about how I reached my epiphany moment. When I got all fed up with myself and how I was living. It was a hard day, and it wasn't that long ago.