Spring Germination// Growth

Taken during a sunny day

Growth is something common and hard for teenagers.

Many adults underestimate our power and the struggles that we face in trying to find ourselves. It's funny because they forget the undeniable fact that they, too, were teenagers. Teenagehood is all about growth + transition and how can this be easy? I personally believe that all teenagers need to know that they're not alone. I, for a long time, believed I was alone in this journey and it took me a long time to realize I wasn't.

To add to my struggles, I was also told; “you can't turn into this,” “you can't do this.” I was told by close people what I could and should be. I was and still am criticized for my growing beliefs and the roots of who I am. Who I was turning into depended more on other people's views rather than my own.

Without realizing it I had fallen into a never ending hole of rejection and self-doubt. Who could I be if I was told that was wrong? How could I love myself if outside voices criticized me? I could not tell the difference between my voice and those. Eventually, after sleepless nights, I realized that I had the power of deciding who I was going to be. And that is a power everyone owns + has the right to use. 

I know all this is hard, it still is for me, but hopefully you'll reach a stage of self-acceptance. Stop listening to what others have to say about who you are (unless it's a compliment where you can internally yell “helll yaahhh!”). You be what you want to be, and the only opinion that matters is yours.  Wishing you a safe (and slightly less troublesome) germination! Later,

-Laura

37

I think I haven't felt more capable of loving someone as much as I do right now.

I am no longer obsessed with being sad and interesting, I'm no longer constantly worried about loss, anger, envy or whatever-the-hell-I-created-with-my mind to make me trip with non-existent stones.

I'm no longer afraid of not being enough.

I'm fortunate to see him growing. I'm happy to observe changes in his hair, his beard, the way he talks. I like to document the way he looks every day. Even if it's just a bad hair day, a change in the weather, two more minutes in that meeting or maybe three hours talking about the sky, the roads, the plans and everything that will lead us to a delayed but unavoidable togetherness. I keep track methodically of literally everything- I don't want to miss anything. I don't want to lose this.

He is, on the other side, so many things at once.

He isn't half as dramatic as I am. He doesn't see patterns because there are no patterns. He usually just laughs and tries to stop me from thinking too much. He's not exactly expressive or as generous with words but he's generous with his patience. He is succinct, yes, but never fails to deliver the necessary. Sometimes, he will feel too much and hide. He's an universe, a tall kingdom, a sky full of stars, a constellation.

We are not balanced. I know there are many bases to cover.

There are many promises that haven't happened. Not to place the blame on either, but on the mistakes that happen because of too much experience or for the lack of it. There are insecurities, consequences of thinking too much and for lack of thought. There is love that is taken for granted but there is also the intention of exploring day by day, the intricacies of a life together.

We know that there is no such thing as forever.

We know that the color of his hair won't be the same all the time, that I sometimes scare him because I'm impatient. I understand that 14 years are nothing and at the same, too much. I know that it is scary to love again and to crave for something beyond the way we look. I know that there are a million things I haven't done and then a million more he hasn't either. But loving him, with my 23 years, has been an experience and a whole new morning of emotions.

I know that loving him has made me the brightest star in his constellation.

And that is a way to last forever.

Magic of The Arts// ART

Art is probably the one thing that has been present all my life. One of my first memories is creating comics of three little girls, in the first grade. I still have the sketchbook where I drew their adventures. As the years passed I  experimented with different mediums; watercolors, acrylics, oil pastel, charcoal. I drew portraits and (attempted to draw) landscapes. Mostly, when I make my art I don't strive for it to express something or say anything. Looking back at the art I made during different stages of my life I discovered something; every single piece I make perfectly describes what I was going through when I made it.

I saw the pain, or the happiness. I saw feelings, thoughts, every  kind of emotion. I had done all that in different ways without meaning to. A question popped up in my head; what would be the product if I tried to incorporate emotions in my art? Little after whenever I felt any kind of strong emotion, I'd draw. I had become obsessed with saying things without opening my mouth. I'd make angry sketches and gloomy seas. I was surrounded by millions of pieces that spoke for themselves. One could almost hear voices, stories coming out of every single brush stroke. I was in a state of full self expression. I had and still have a voice.

Donald Woods Winnicott once said “Artists are people driven by the tension between the desire to communicate and the desire to hide”. I communicated because I desired to. I don't use my voice much. I don't necessarily speak in order to say what I feel. I hide in my room, I paint, sometimes I just drown myself in thoughts. I always have something to say about everything. I want to state my views without having to open my mouth in front of a group of people. I'm no good in public speaking, but I can transmit a message. A raw and sometimes hard to decode message. Art has helped me speak, even when I don't want to. Art is another weapon that I can use against the cynical minds of others. Art is another (of the many) way to raise your voice. Later!

-Laura

On the things I wish someone told me when I was younger//LIFE ADVICE

Fortunately, I grew up. I don't say that being a teenager was the worst thing that could happen to me when I was younger. I'd say it was confusing, for a lack of a better word with no one to settle the arguments I had with myself.

I grew, not only did I get slightly taller and significantly smaller in the waist. I was lucky to have people who stayed around when I had a breakdown for my first (unrequited) love, for the time I failed a first test after too many years of being in control of my actions. I was glad I had friends, who I love seeing growing, if anything, away from me, because that's part of thawing out, of evolving and changing.

I evolved and changed, I finally found my voice. I finally decided about the things I love and I finally have an outline of the things I want from life. I learned that disagreeing with an 18-year-old you is not the end of the world: it means that you grew up and that you saw enough things to be able to change your vision. That doesn't mean that you were wrong; it simply means that your options and life widened.

I grew up and while most clichés about growing up are true, they don't make life any less enjoyable, but they give you some perspective. Growing up means seeing things from a different angle, but with the same heart and with more depth.

Dear reader, if you're stuck, if you feel like everything is happening too quickly, remember that life changes and that life changes. Please bear in mind that you are the only one who makes choices about where you're going.

Take your time to recover, to let your flowers grow, to heal and to understand, to say sorry and to get used to loss, to love and to live those feelings to the best extent... remember please, that most bad things come to an end and that there is always a shoulder to cry on and a loving heart to find relief at.

LATER!

 -

McDavid