Becoming a Member of the Wesleyan Wolfpack

I miss writing.

I miss letting the words flow from my mind through my fingers to the keyboard and finally onto the screen. I miss spewing thoughts, wishes, dreams, curses - I miss it totally.

Stress keeps me from writing, and I've sure had my share of stress for so many years. It is not easy coming off of stress... wait, that should be capitalized. 

STRESS - the big, dark, lurking state of anxious doom-and-gloom. It is bad, it is not the type of stress that gets one motivated; nuh-uh. This STRESS is the one that makes a person ill, forgetful, blacks out memories, and potentially kills.

There, better.

STRESS snuck its way into my life so long ago, I cannot remember a time without it. Was it during work? Maybe when I returned to Hawaii in '03? Or maybe further back - when I first caught my ex-husband cheating on me... or further still? High school when I was threatened not to graduate and I buckled in tears... further still to when I watched the abuse happening around me... or waaay back when I witnessed my mother's dreams fall apart.

Going over my life, I see that dark STRESS haunting my steps as I grew, matured, hid, played, laughed, shut-up, and eventually paraded myself in the path others set for me. Make something of myself by joining the military, become a wife, have babies, get a job, support family, buy house, set example, strive for perfection in everything I do.

Is that it?

A tiny speck of light appeared in the bleakness of STRESS when, in my anger, I first applied for and received financial aid for college; it is what got me going to Leeward in the first place. Attending classes felt good - so much so that I excelled where I didn't think I could. Receiving my AS with honors put a huge slash across STRESS, and that tiny speck of light started to beam on me when the first offer from Wesleyan College came to me. 

STRESS is strong, and I turned it down because, really, I was afraid.

Afraid of the changes I would have to go through. Afraid of leaving the 'aina which is my home, Hawai'i. Afraid to break free from the shackles that STRESS put upon my mind and soul; after all, one gets comfortable under the constant barrage of self-doubt and anxiety STRESS causes. It becomes a sort of shield, comfort zone, soft blanket - because that is all a woman has known throughout her life.

This is why my journey is such a big thing for me right now.

STRESS is not happy with me. And you know what, I don't give a damn.

~~~~~

Today is Sunday, August 16, 2020.

Today I woke up with the sun beaming in my window, reflecting off the mirror across the room. It sparkled through the leaves of the giant magnolia tree that helps keep my room cool. The birds sang the sunrise from the small, private forest across the lawn in a chorus that made me feel... peaceful.

This is the first time I've woken up and actually feel... relaxed. 

This is the first time I've Woken Up.

I walk around the campus, dew on the grass, and fae rings of mushrooms. I breathe in Georgia's humidity and watch as clouds bustle in the sky - they are low this morning, going to be a sauna today. I don't care for that brings the thunderstorms later. I love the lightning of the afternoon storms - sends fingers of power through my veins. I see a small fox darting from the pond back toward the wood, and I realize that wood may be more of a magical place than first impressions lend. I shall explore it sometime soon.

For the first time in memory, I feel good about the morning.