L O S I N G , G A I N I N G

photo by me: Boston Commons, March 24, 2019, unedited

I have been depressed for four years.
I have felt less like the woman I used to be.
More than anything, I have lost myself.
I lost my father when I was six months old. I happen to resemble a lot of his physical traits. The loss of a familiar face and an intense 
spirit, a lot like mine. 
I lost my tribe.
I lost my structure.
I lost my sanity.
I lost my passion.
I lost my possible career path.
I lost my happiness and drive to make more music.
I lost my desire to continue my “music dream.” The music industry 
had changed drastically from when I started ten years ago.
I lost my “youth.”
I lost my “booty shorts” days.
I lost my “small busted” days.
I lost my gorgeous “skinny malinky” high school body.
I lost my “heat-tolerance.”
I lost my belonging with people my exact age.
I lost my privilege to go to prom, which I cared less about anyway.
I lost my invitation to what would have been my ten year class 
reunion in 2026.
I lost my chance to walk with the kids I went to school with for
 most of thirteen years. 
I lost my “traditional” senior year, I chose to homeschool the last
 two years. In exchange, our family took a couple of out-of-state 
trips during the course of the year (with our schoolwork on board, 
of course!). I closed the year with almost all A’s and honors as
 a homeschool graduate. 


I’ve aged a bit on my face.  At twenty-two years old.
Two cute smile lines that I actually admire.
Faint fine lines on my forehead. Two between my eyebrows 
from dealing with constant stress and trauma since 
fourth grade. 
I don’t have a skin routine. It’s “too much” to fathom with.
I am a very anxious person who can be triggered with the 
smallest of things, sometimes the “why” is unknown.
I’ve always wanted to be “older.” It validates my 
already-innate wisdom.


I gained human empathy for myself.
I gained a wider perspective of what dreams are.
I gained a regular sleep schedule.
I gained more modesty.
I gained more maturity.
I gained back my innate spirituality.
I gained new unforeseen, unexpected, true friendships 
that originated online.
I gained more trust from my parents.
I gained a (surprisingly) more frugal, less impulsive 
approach to money.
I gained a healthier way to eat.
I gained my love for iced coffee and iced lattes. I ditched 
the Frappuccino (I call it a Crappuccino now, lol)
I gained a budding interest in baking. I don’t like to 
cook, but baking is a little more fun for a sweet-tooth creative.
I gained my passion for kickboxing, when I was afraid 
to try “violent” workouts before.
I gained my love for a new city. Boston, Massachusetts is 
a place I want to call home, when Houston, Texas has 
been the only place I’ve known as home.
I gained a more realistic approach to my fixated 
“Northeast utopia” I had created when I was
 seventeen, after visiting Washington, D.C. (Obama
 was still in office then, it was a much more pleasant place).
I gained comfort in leaving my house without makeup on, 
and wet hair in a bun on occasion.  
I gained appreciation for my middle school years when 
before I’d skirt around the intense impact of the trauma.
I gained new music tastes, more mature and “self-fitting”
 ones for the matter. 
I gained more self knowledge, thanks to the 
Enneagram. You’re reading a blog post by a type 4, wing 3 
(the Enthusiast, or the Aristocrat).
I gained an experience and memory I had only dreamed
 of years prior: meeting my queen, songwriter Kara 
DioGuardi (I still cannot believe that actually happened,
 and the way it did, LOL). She really is a queen, genuine
 human being, and is exactly like I had imagined she’d be.
I gained more comfort in my insecurities and realized that 
they aren’t as uncommon as I thought they were.
I gained acceptance of the fact that I didn’t want to go
 to college at eighteen, I still don’t at twenty-two. 
I gained more relationships with people that have some 
of the same fears as me, especially when I wasn’t looking.
I gained more comfort in being an observer of the world
 around me. 
I gained more courage to speak up about things
 that bother me, but I still cannot stand the anxiety
 that it brings. 


I gained realization that my parents want me to live my 
dreams, support me, and help me follow them. My parents 
are not setting up a trap, they have sixty years of life 
experience. However it can be difficult when your 
parents are older and you’re just getting your feet 
off of their foundation. Don’t wanna brag on my parents, 
but I’m telling you, they’re in FANTABULOUS shape 
at sixty. Half of my stepdad’s hair is grey, the other is 
his natural black color. People are often shocked when 
I say that my mom is sixty - she looks so much 
younger - I’d say about fifty. 


And most of all, I gained the possibility that I could “like” 
myself, thanks to a badass girl boss named Lizzo. #BLACKLIVESMATTER 
When you listen to her music, it’s almost as if she
 MAKES you “love” yourself. I’m not at “love” yet,
 I think “love” and "accept" are a bit extreme. 
But for now, I have moved away from the 
epicenter of “hate,” and closer to the “there are 
things I like about myself” stage.