Have you ever forgotten who you were? Not like your name, but the works, hobbies, and passions that make you who you are?
I have. I realized this last year and it has been eating at me the whole time.
I used to draw, paint, sculpt, and more when it comes to art. I loved it so much I did it every single day. What I created was for me. I really stopped doing this when I got married the first time. My obligations grew and I gave it up.
I used to love Micro Beers. I would buy a six pack of different beers I’ve never tried, sit on the patio and enjoy one every night. I didn’t review them, it wasn’t to get a buzz, it wasn’t for anyone else, it was for me. A time came I couldn’t afford it anymore and gave it up.
I used to love reading. I’ve read well over 400 books. My choices were all over the place. I lived sci-fi, self-help, inspirational, mystery, comic books, etc. Again I read for myself. My schedule these days doesn’t leave much time for sitting down and reading a full article, let alone a book.
I’ve been trying to do things for myself again. Lately I’ve been trying to work on my artistic abilities. Know what sucks, if you stop doing it, you forget. I’ve been relearning as I go, but it’s not easy.
I’ve given up on myself in so many ways, its hard, no painful, trying to recover it.
If you enjoy something that you do, for you and nobody else, don’t give it up. Don’t sacrifice yourself so deeply that you forget who you are. The climb out of that hole isn’t easy.