First

Well, I've done it.

I've created a monster.

Over the past couple of years, some very supportive people in my life have suggested that I make a blog about my life as a musician in Nashville and my transformation into a "healthy young adult" (who still eats french fries on the weekends). Although I'm sure that I will be the only person reading it, I've decided that this will be a great way for me to keep track of the organized chaos that is my life so that I can look back at it in 40 years and be really embarrassed.

So, here's my story:

I was born in an adorable little suburb of Elmhurst, IL in 1992, surrounded by some of the best people I've ever known, and, almost as important, some of the best restaurants in the country. I don't like the word "foodie", but that's probably exactly what I was. Around the ripe young age of 4 or 5, my parents told me that I used to request foods like hummus, goose liver pate, and calamari. I know...super weird. I had also been diagnosed with Reflux at the time, which meant that I constantly got sick for the most insignificant reasons (i.e. being overly nervous/anxious/excited, eating acidic foods late at night, eating too much chocolate).  Sometimes, I would even get sick for weeks at a time but even specialists couldn't figure out exactly what the issue was.

The year I turned 7, we moved all the way to a slightly larger but equally adorable suburb outside of San Francisco called "Danville". I spent the next few years slowly falling in love with California; taking weekend trips to sandy beach hotels in Monterey, eating crusty baguette sandwiches next to stunning wineries in Napa, exploring the best tiny coffee shops and used book stores in SF... I was brilliantly lucky to grow up there.

At the age of 12, my parents bought me a small classical acoustic guitar and found a teacher that was one of those bald, tattooed, "cool" rock-and-roll types. Although he was super awesome, I didn't make it past a few lessons because I hated being told what to play and when to practice. I decided to learn guitar on my own terms, which eventually led to 1-2 hours of rocking out in my room almost every single day (MUCH to the dismay of my family...sorry guys!). That year I also started writing songs. My first-ever completed song was called "I'm Livin' Small" and it's probably one of the worst things ever written (unfortunately my parents have it saved somewhere for future blackmailing purposes).

As I began to improve as a musician and writer, my eating habits were actually getting worse. Although the reflux was mostly under control, my love of food was causing me to gain weight pretty rapidly, even though I was eating like every other teenager around me. I couldn't accept the fact that my body worked differently than all of the super skinny girls I hung out with who ate the same things, so I did very little to try and improve myself. I would complain and get really depressed and try "fad diets" like Weight Watchers and Atkins for a few weeks, but nothing ever lasted because it made me even more miserable.

Then, there was college. I worked on my application for the Berklee College of Music for 3 months before I sent it in, and I was BEYOND excited when I found out I was accepted early decision. I knew that between my parents helping and some money my grandma set aside for me that I could only afford to go for 2 years, but I decided that the knowledge and experience would be absolutely worth it. It's probably too early to tell, but I think that was the best choice I've ever made.

I lived in a dorm on campus, worked 30-40 hours a week at Boloco (a local burrito place), took 9-10 classes per semester, practiced 3-5 hours every day, and therefore slept very little. My friends and I basically lived on fast food and cheap carbs. Even though I didn't drink alcohol even one time in college, my habits caused me to be in the absolute WORST shape of my entire life. I was extremely overweight, tired and sick all the time, and too focused on school/music to do anything about it. My heart had also been broken by the first man I ever loved, which was even more harmful to my health and well-being (although I totally pulled a T.Swift and wrote an entire album about it). There were also some positive things happening, though: I auditioned for every major songwriting competition in the school and somehow won all 3 of them (whaaaat?). I was chosen as a recipient of the Jack Maher Award/Scholarship and selected to be a performer at Paula Cole's masterclass. I had also saved up enough money slingin' burritos to drunk students to move to Nashville and put a deposit on an apartment. I just needed to figure out how to make my health a priority again.

In May of 2012, I made the difficult move to Nashville, TN. During my first week, I had my wallet/ID/purse stolen, got into a small accident with my brand new leased Honda Civic, and moved into a place that was infested with small cockroaches. It was probably the worst week of my life. I knew exactly one person and didn't have any clue how to begin; so all I could do was make a list, which looked a little something like this:

• Find a job
• Find a gig
• GET HEALTHY

None of those things started out as simply as I'd hoped; but I started to slowly accomplish them while calling friends and family almost every day to cope with the loneliness of being in a strange new place. 

I got a job at a local health store, cooked my own meals most of the week and started forcing myself to go out to local writer's nights to meet people. 2 years later, after playing hundreds of gigs (some great, some awful), discovering a gluten allergy, completing a 30 day juice cleanse that changed my life, and getting to know the wonderful people in the Nashville community, I am 60lbs lighter with a decent chunk of change in my bank account, a few super exciting music opportunities, and a crazy life that I'm starting to be proud of. 

If you were able to get to the end of this, you're incredible (but probably mostly really bored). 

Here's to the start of another small adventure. 

Cheers,

-Kylie