Remembering there's more to you.

Hello, My name is Sylvia Favello. I am a self-taught software developer who's on their coding journey and just sharing it with the world.

I came up with this post because a friend of mine on Twitter encouraged me to share. Check him out, he's amazing and supportive in the tech community. twitter.com/anshammer. I thought about how this might relate to technology and the world of coding for us. I then remembered that there was this twitter space hosted by twitter.com/dev_nikema and twitter.com/APrideDesigns about us techies and what we like to do outside of tech. So many shared their hidden talents and passions that I felt brought this community a whole lot closer together. From our love for books, music, video games, traveling, etc. I want to remember all that we are made up of. There is so much more to us, I think it is important not to forget that. This poem was created when I forgot who I was and in the mist of me forgetting, remembering we are all self-made and new versions of us are inevitably created through life experiences. Even though I whole-heartedly love this field and it is my passion, there is more to me than just being a software developer and I wanted to share this with all of you.

I see so many people come into this field and who have been in this field for a long time forget to do other things that feed their soul. This is what feeds mine. I hope this encourages you to feed your passions. I would also like to thank, twitter.com/allysedotdev , who reminded me of this important fact today as well. Don't allow yourself to get to the point of feeling burned out or exhausted. I hope this helps someone.

When you read this poem, imagine an open karaoke/mic night because this might be off key and I'm am no singer.

Tenderly.

I keep losing pictures, these little pieces to my puzzle.

Wondering who overheard my conversations so I can ask them who I am?

I'm not quite sure, you see, I think I lost a part of me.

I think.

My mind, like loose pages, litters the ground, as my old self drowns.

I allow these thoughts to consume what is left of me, let it take the very breathe I breathe.

I can no longer assume who I am or what I was.

Though I assume that I am, at least, not you.

I don't want to leave where I am currently.

If you were to extend an invitation, I would decline, regretfully so.

I am not brave enough to give myself another go.

Banging my head as my thoughts run amiss.

Until I miss.

Until I miss the old me.

But then I realized I must become a new me.

Otherwise, it will all slip while others taste its bliss.

I forgot about all of this.

Suddenly, it was as if I had grown.

Grown taller than an oak tree.

Taller than the old me.

I was able to see the sky for once and felt like I could finally breathe.

Closed my eyes as I inhaled till the count of 3.

Exhale and opened my eyes to a vastly different me.

I felt relief but chose not to linger on it for too long.

For I do not want to assume that I am done.

That I have finished my run.

But for once, I realized I am loved, since I love me so tenderly.

And even as I grow, I know in the future, I will become yet another me.

To be happy, I must love all of me.

Like the petal of a rose, I must do so, tenderly.