I was scared for a long time. Afraid to take a leap into the unknown. I waited for the perfect moment. A perfect time to start. My head was always racing with ideas, but actually making them real was too challenging for me. So I waited and waited. Until the moment came when my whole body and mind would say: 'Now you may.' Of course, that moment never came. My mind will never say "go" on its own. It needs a little push of faith and bravery that I choose to believe.

So there I was, with all of my work keeping it for myself and wondering about that step. Then somewhere, I saw a post about rethinking your thoughts. "I am not ready/ I need to know more first”, changing into “there is no better time than now." I looked it over and thought to myself: 'Yes, I am in control of my own thoughts, so I make the decision when it's ready.' So here I am, about to take the jump and post my first painting on the internet. It might sound crazy, but for me, this was a huge step.

Scared to take this leap. Scared to post. Not because of the people who will see it, but because taking this step will make it real. Always full of ideas, but I would never take a chance because it would change my life. A lot of people say it will change for the better, but the thing is: I was afraid. Afraid of living a beautiful life. A life with movement. The pain was my comfort zone for a long time. I rather lived in the dark of my own shadow, than live in the light with others. After a long time in that pain, I began to see that I could choose to let go. This took some years, but most of the pain is now in the past. Some things are still reminders, and some are more like pictures in a book. I look at them sometimes, but it doesn't hurt anymore.

Still, I wasn't doing what I wanted. In my head, I heard it over and over. 'I want to paint. I want to write about all the beauty and possibilities. I would love to make people happy,' but my mind was fast with arguments. 'It is better you choose something more important than painting and writing. You do not directly help anyone with something like that. You should consider becoming someone like a doctor, a lawyer, a builder, or an accountant. Something more direct.' It would always end in the same thing. I let my thoughts go and move on. Of course, this silence didn't take long before my heart was inspired again. The wandering of images and stories came to me, but my mind was back. After conversations with myself and my mother, I concluded that it is not meaningless. There is a reason why I want it so badly. If not, there is still this hunkering feeling all over me. It took some time, but I chose to try again.

After years of not making art for myself, I began to feel at home again. It felt weird, and I couldn't paint as fast as I wanted. The images in my head didn't appear on my canvas. Frustrated about my process, I began to think. It was time to just listen to the visions I see in my head, rather than pushing the thoughts on my canvas and wiping the imperfections away. The moments changed, and I felt more connected to my ideas. It was liberating and intense. I could finally find the words to describe what I had been yearning to say for so long. My paintings began to live and have voices that I could understand.

The things were now alive, but they weren't free. I wasn't ready to let it fly. I kept it inside and took pictures with love, but I didn't take the time to step forward. I searched for signs. 'Am I ready? Am I moving? Am I taking the right step?' I am, and I knew, but the fear kept me from going somewhere. Afraid to try. Afraid of change. Most of all afraid to live the life I want. So there I was again in my room, writing about all the other pains I was going through. I took a step back and spoke to myself. 'I got this. I can take this leap. I am as ready as I will ever be. I may trust this feeling in this message for me. I may give myself the space to feel and experience all the wonders of life.’

With my fingers hovering above the enter button, I felt it all. All came through me, but I went for it. In to the unknown of the future. I let my finger press the enter. There it was. It was free.