I’ll rise up.
High like the waves.
What gets you going in the morning? Gives you that
nudge kick in the ass to wake up, roll out of bed and start a new day? I ask that you pause and take a moment before answering. Take a really long moment, and make it an honest response, even if it’s a brutal one. It has to come from your soul. Your heart.
In the spirit of full disclosure, this post was triggered in part by what Shelbee shared on the matter of vanity being her saving grace (if you haven’t had, I highly suggest you visit her blog, the woman writes passionately and truthfully, and I hold her in the highest of regard). Another reason I’m writing what I am today is because when I wrote about earning money from the blog a little while ago, I realised that my original reason for starting one was no longer held.
Like many of my peers, my day job doesn’t quite do it for me. It puts food on the table and allows me to savour in occasional indulgences yet leaves my soul yearning for something else. As for fashion, I was 7 years old when I first saw an Issey Miyake creation, and it was love at first sight. Determined to be my generation’s design prodigy, I set about learning everything to do with the sartorial world. Before my 9th birthday, I could tell the difference between charmeuse and satin, draft patterns, and manoeuvre a sewing machine far better than I could fry an egg (I have somewhat improved my culinary skills since then, pinkie swear).
Along the journey to reaching adulthood, I participated in competitions (and won a few, nothing earth-shattering), and when I turned 18, I was offered an internship with the now defunct Koala Blue chain (owned by Olivia Newton John). My father’s Asian views on art as a(n impossible) livelihood soon put an end to that dream. It’s alright, his heart was in the right place.
I LOVE YOU, DAD
I set aside the idea of being a fashion designer and focused on my other love, writing.
Writing has helped me survive so many things.
Ongoing sexual abuse when I was a pre-teen. Physically abusive relationships in my late teens to my early 20s. A marriage that crumbled, a horrid torrid divorce. The stigma of being a single parent in a conservative environment. More times than not, I was convinced my world was falling apart and, worse, that I couldn’t come up for air.
Words were my solace. My guardian angels. My saving grace.
And then, the two roads met. Writing and fashion. That’s what puts the lilt in my step. Pushes me to rise up every single day, like the sun. Like waves crashing to the shore.
What about you?
What makes you rise up each morning?
p/s photos by Sofia Touassa
I link up here.