There are moments when life feels like a tangled web of what could have been and what is. It’s in these moments, when we question everything, that we find ourselves at a crossroads we never expected. I’ve been wrestling with one of those crossroads recently—a place where passion and pain collide.
I’ve always loved makeup. It was my escape, my creativity, my world. But life didn’t make room for that dream to grow. Opportunities were scarce, and I left that path behind, thinking that maybe teaching would give me the stability I needed. But as I stood in front of my children, I began to realize that the fire for makeup still burned brightly in my soul.
Now, I’m trying to figure out how to reignite that spark, while not losing myself to the fear of wasting time. What if I invest my energy and creativity into something, only to find it doesn’t give me the fulfilment I need for my future? It’s not about failure—it’s about making sure that whatever I do, I gain something meaningful for myself in the long run. That thought lingers, and it’s hard to shake. But still, this creative part of me is waiting to be set free.
It’s made all the more difficult by the ghost of someone from my past—a person who once believed in me, who pushed me to chase my dreams, but who also broke my heart. Someone who saw my potential and encouraged me to reach for the stars, yet left in a way that left a scar I can’t fully heal. And despite the pain and the anger, I still don’t know how to hate him.
Sometimes, I wonder why this ache doesn’t go away. It’s a heartache that lingers in the background of my every day, a reminder of love lost and dreams deferred. I can't explain it, but my heart aches every day, and I wonder if this pain will ever stop. Maybe it won’t. Maybe this is just part of the process—the part where we grieve not only the loss of people, but of pieces of ourselves that we leave behind, too.
I don’t have all the answers, but what I know is this: It’s okay to feel lost. It’s okay to sit in the discomfort of the ache for a while, to allow the pain and the dreams to co-exist. The road ahead may be challenging, but at least it’s mine to walk, with all its beauty, scars, and moments of clarity along the way.
I know makeup is where my passion lies, my therapy, but I still don’t know how to make it work for me full-time. It didn’t give me the stability or income I needed before, and it took a toll on my mental health, leaving me unable to function at all. Now, I have a job that provides a monthly income, even though it's one of the toughest jobs I’ve ever had. It’s a job that keeps me grounded, even while the depression lingers. Maybe, one day, I’ll find a way to merge my love for makeup with the stability I’ve found. For now, I’ll sit with this uncertainty, knowing that even in the ache, there’s room for growth and healing.
