I am not a tree anymore.

I wanted something to motivate me. I wanted something to tell me that I am not a tree; that I could change the direction of where my life seems to head toward.

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It was by the end of 2011 that I admitted that I might be–somewhat–lost.

I remember continuously talking about quitting my job not because I didn’t like it but because it made me feel stuck. I remember trying to move on from a long-term relationship but can’t. It was by the end of 2011 that I found myself sitting and wondering what to do with my life.

That year was a blur. The only highlight of that year was me graduating and my mom’s dream of me graduating with Latin honors finally came to life. Well, you can also consider landing a job on first try and liking it, being challenged by it, and having friends while I was on it.

But maybe, I have this issue with myself where I always compare myself to a tree. Yes, a tree. Maybe, you’re wondering why ever made that comparison but the thing with trees, they can’t move–even if they wanted to, they can’t. As per science, they’re equally as alive as we are. In fact, they breathe. They exhale the air we inhale. But unlike the rest of us, they can’t move, they’re stuck where they have been first planted and it takes one lucky tree to be able to move at all–tornado or landslide or soil erosion.

So, yeah. I have this thing with trees because I don’t want to be a tree and perhaps, toward the end of 2011, I just thought that maybe I am a tree living in the body of a tiny 20-year-old.

It was kind of depressing–although I never pegged myself as the depressed type. Still.

Part of me just wanted to get the hell out of the rabbit hole that I called my life and start over again. For some reasons, I can’t.

I wanted something to motivate me. I wanted something to tell me that I am not a tree; that I could change the direction of where my life seems to head toward.

I knew I wasn’t doing enough but I was scared. I was scared to make the ultimate leap that would change everything. It wasn’t just about the job. It was everything.

Then, as funny as it was.

Something happened on the first day of 2012.

January 1st, just two hours past midnight–while I was slightly lightheaded because of my family’s yearly red wine tradition–I browsed through this website called You, Me & Charlie. It was still a brand new website back then. I liked browsing through it because one, Dianna Agron–it’s godsend creator–is, like, one my biggest girl crushes ever (have you seen her face?); and second, I really like how it has random blitz of inspiration that actually inspire me on a daily basis.

I saw this photo (below) and as hopeless as I am, I thought–for the first time ever–that I actually have a chance.

The Magic Room Project  I remember being stunned upon seeing this because, really, it answered all my questions about whether or not I am a tree.

I am not a tree, I never was because I can move. I have a choice. And there isn’t a right time in the future because the right time is now.

It wasn’t in that moment that I decided to move right away but it was in that moment that everything started making sense.

Maybe, I wasn’t lost after all or maybe I was found.

But needless to say, it clicked.

I quit my job a few months after that, after I was sure that I already have the guts to start over again.

So, I did and it turned out to be one the best decisions I ever made in my life.

It wasn’t easy. I miss my friends so much but we were able to keep our friendship out of that office so I was still glad.

And then, at some point during my two-month hiatus from the employed world, I swore to myself that I was going to inspire people the way that photo up there inspired me, the way YM&C inspired me.

I started writing again because I figured I have not done that in a while. I finished the “book” I had been writing. Published it somewhere that none of my friends know, got good feedback–and again for the first time in my life, I felt like I am on solid ground; like, I wasn’t floating around aimlessly.

I transferred my old blog to WordPress because one, I wanted a bigger audience and two, I just really, really wanted to start over.

Then, I decided to pursue The Magic Room Project.

I needed help from a few friends so I reached out. It was also something new to me because I‘m not the type who reaches out. I did and that felt good because the site went up and we kept it up as we kept our rekindled friendship together. I had a few naysayers but I pushed through because that’s what I was raised to do.

It was going great until it all came crashing down again. Like I said in one my blogs, 2012 just simply wasn’t my year.

If I thought I was lost in 2011, 2012 sure did give me the true meaning of being lost.

If you want to have a picture of how bad 2012 was, read this blog.

Point is, I stopped writing again. I stopped writing “books’ again. I stopped reaching out again. I stopped being me again and once more, I found myself close to being a God-damned tree.

I lost the will to blog about all my favorite music artists and bloggers because let’s face it, I could barely keep my life together. How was I expected to keep a website from falling apart?

So, it stopped. As per science, when the brain stops functioning, one would be half as good and motionless as a vegetable.

It is what happened and after quite some time, I admitted that maybe, I really didn’t know what I was doing when I first launched the website.

Then 2013 came but as much as I hoped, no life-altering blog posts came in the New Year and I found myself just a little too drunk and a little to sad for my liking.

Again, I was a tree.

I was close to finally admitting that maybe I am a tree after all. That I don’t have a choice but to be miserable but then, I knew deep inside that I wasn’t born a quitter. I hated losing the game without putting up a fight.

So, I didn’t need any blog posts. I didn’t need anything to help me figure what was wrong with me because I’m 22 and I’m supposed to not have everything figured out. It took me time to accept that but I eventually did. It took me a Taylor Swift song to realize that being happy, free, confused, and lonely at the same time is okay because I don’t know about you but I’m feeling 22.

Ugh. I hate that I made that reference but that’s the freaking point.

February, I got a new job at a company where I didn’t know anyone. I got a job that I felt like there’s room for improvement. I got a job at a company where I can start over and although this is my millionth start over in 22 years of existence, I feel like this is a shift.

I might be wrong again sometime this year because this year might turn out to be as bad as 2012 was but so far it’s doing good to me, mostly it’s my choice–so maybe, I’m not a tree after all.

Just a few weeks ago, I decided to bring The Magic Room Project back to life.

We’re still working on it but I’m sure about one thing this time. I’m sure that unlike the first time TMRP saw the light of the worldwide web, I know what I’m doing this time around.

This may sound like I’m self-promoting my website but I really am not. I swear for the love of Dianna Agron’s face, Kelly Clarkson’s voice, and Queen’s legendary music, this is just me sharing what The Magic Room Project is all about. It is a website of music, literature, and arts put together by a small group of people who try to survive everyday as you do.

I can’t explain it in bare words not because I don’t know what it is. I can’t explain because I simply am not an eloquent person.

So, I revisited my long-forgotten Photoshop skills and created a theme for the comeback of this project. It’s not much.

But then again, it’s a start.

TMRP | Reimagined

The Magic Room Project
http://www.themagicroomproject.com
Facebook
@magickroom

So, maybe if you’re my friend you can follow or like us and wait until we’re ready to start again.

Author: Lora Dee

Proof that a degree in Communication doesn't make anyone less awkward; music taste ranges from the very first Britney Spears album to Arcade Fire and Haim but does not include Justin Bieber and One Direction; favorite poet is me because everyone is a poet when they're sad enough.

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