Finding me.

For years now, I have achieved excellence in most areas of my life. Excellence in school grades, check. Excellence in martial arts, check. Excellence in singing, check. Ok, so I still have an ability to excell in school work, but logically, the amount of work I did last year is probably the biggest explanation of my grades, because when you are between the itchy sheets of a hospital bed, studying is the best thing to do. That and quizzing every single doctor about which university they went to, and why, and asking them for hints or tips.

But the others? Not so much. My martial arts passion is crippled  by my low weight. I was asked by a dear friend at a party on friday if I still sung. I sighed, rather heavily, and bitterly admited that I had not sung in a long time. Unfortunately, I have not even looked at my music books for the last seven weeks. And even before that, I was not really singing, only going through the motions of singing, there was no passion, no drive, no desire. When I used to sing, nothing else mattered. The walls could fall down around me, and it wouldn’t matter until I had finished reciting an aria. She looked upset when i told her this, and told me ‘That is such a shame, you had such a beautiful voice.’

Love number one

This comment shook me. A genuine compliment from someone who has been my friend for over 8 years, and it had nothing to do with the way I looked, or dressed or anything artificial. This comment would still hold no matter how I looked on the outside. My singing was something that came from deep inside of me, a fire that has gone out.

So I need to go back, to return to my roots, relight the fire. I was singing the second I could talk, but it simply slipped away. Singing is supposed to be like riding your bike, you never forget how to do it, you just lose some of your ability. Because I know singing is a big part of who I truly am. When my relapse started, I had not had time to return to choir, I had no weekly commitment to it, and therefore, it was lost along with other parts of my personality, because if anorexia is like a bell jar, singing is a passion trapped on the outside.

Love number two.

Thus, tonight, an email will be sent to my choir master, asking when term starts, and if I can return. I do hope he will say yes, I think singing will provide such a useful distraction and mind-occupying tool. Of course, I am nervous about returning, the usual thoughts plague me, engulfing me with worry. Though, I must attempt to battle through. I need to rediscover who I am, and bring some passion, devotion and positive energy into my life.