When life gives you lemons, don’t make lemonade, not unless that lemonade is full of rum, and lots of it.

A few years ago, I was not the person I am now. I was much happier. A was more carefree, an American girl living abroad in Europe, jumping from one Hollywood film set to the next working as a background extra, stand-in, and AD on shows and movies such as Vikings, Reign, Love Rosie, and others. I was surrounded by celebrities. I road to set each day on the back of my boyfriend’s motorcycle, a loud cruiser. He was an Irish actor, bearded and full of humor, but I was not, just someone looking for adventure.

Here’s me as a background extra on the set of a 50s inspired detective show:

Farewell Sister

The Christmas of 2013, my sun began to dim. When meeting my boyfriend’s family for the first time over gifts and feasting, it was announced that his father had cancer, leaving a somber tone to the holiday festivities. The following October, almost a year later, his father passed. To witness the grief and the goodbyes his family went through was the most heartbreaking experience of my life. But it got worse.

With the passing of my boyfriend’s father, I realized it had been too long since I stepped foot on American soil. I wanted to go home and spend time with those I loved, but I did not want to leave my boyfriend in the middle of his grief, so I booked my trip home for later that summer.

I wish I had left sooner. In the months between me deciding to return home and my scheduled departure, my best friend died. Though we were not related in blood, we were in spirit. She was my sister since childhood, a hand to hold as we each struggled through poverty as kids. I left to take on the world; she stayed behind to eventually become the mother of four amazing children, a kind, loving soul who took away the stars when she departed.

When she died, I locked myself in the attic and cried for three days. At the time, I was staying with my boyfriend in his mother’s house. His whole family had rallied together around his mother, all of them still devastated from their own recent loss. So when it was physically possible to do so, I dried my tears, cleaned my face, and I returned downstairs, deciding I could grieve properly for my sister when I returned home to America and was surrounded by my own family.

That became impossible. Soon after I arrived home, my mom suffered an aortic dissection (a tear in the heart) and was in ICU for ten days. Thankfully, she survived. But a few months later, her father passed away. And a few months after that, my uncle passed away.

Sad and Angry

Four deaths, including that of my best friend, and the near-death of my mother, was a lot to handle within the timespan of only a year and a half. Only now, just over a year after the final death, that of my uncle, have I finally been able to somewhat cope with reality again. I’m no longer wrapped inside my bed sheets, refusing to leave the comfort of my room (though I am cuddled under a thick blanket as I write this.) Where there was only blackness before, there is now some color. The sea is somewhat blue. The trees are somewhat green.

But I’m still grieving. I’m lonely and sad without my friend. And I’m angry. I’m angry as hell. Four souls were taken, four souls who only added beauty to the world. I want to stand outside and point both my middle fingers at the sky. I’m not the kind to say everything happens for a reason. That’s BS. There is no reason behind tragedy.

Empowerment

I don’t believe everything happens for a reason, but I do believe we can learn from hurt and heartbreak. I am not the same person I was a few years ago. I no longer cruise to movie sets on the back of a motorcycle. I’m not as carefree. And I’m certainly not as happy. But in my grief, I have found purpose. I no longer want to be in front of the camera; I want to be behind it making documentaries aiding in the empowerment of women, women who live in societies where they can’t vote or even leave the house without a male chaperone. I’m doing it with the amazing support of my brothers who understand that the empowerment of women is not the dis-empowerment of men. We can all stand strong together.

The cameras won’t start rolling tomorrow. It takes money and time. Money I don’t have a lot of. Time I have plenty of. So I plan to start here on Steemit with a blog that chronicles not only my journey of making my first documentary happen, but also tidbits of my life or things that interest me, such as my family’s connection to a serial killer. Or what this picture is all about:

And this reason why it takes me so long to get work done:

I’ll also be posting fiction, including my novel Sleeping Brides. In the coming weeks, the full book will be released chapter by chapter for free here on Steemit. You can support me in my efforts by following me @aescholer and by reading, upvoting, and resteeming my posts. Any support is greatly appreciated.

You can check out my first Steemit post: The Adorable Freddy Krueger, A Day with my Horror Fanatic Brothers here: https://steemit.com/life/@aescholer/the-adorable-freddy-krueger-a-day-with-my-horror-fanatic-brothers

I’ll end by saying thank you for accepting me into the Steemit community. And if you’re ever stuck choosing between happiness or purpose, chose purpose, because in its own way, second to love, purpose is one of the truest, most unwavering forms of happiness.