Well … here we are. After a year of not a single blog post.
Anyone who used to hang out here with me is long gone. It’s okay. We all needed the break.
Nothing has changed and yet … everything has changed. The fears are the same but the person I am is totally different.
The last two years have been full of personal growth, soul seeking, mental healing, courage building, gaining a deeper understanding of who I lost and how to get her back. I realized through a painful chain of events that … I was a bit of a lost soul. After a rough decade – a decade of holding it all together and survival – I’d forgotten how to set healthy boundaries. My mind was unhealthy. My spirit was broken. I was resentful and angry and wounded. My counselor said my state of mind was similar to Post Traumatic Stress symptoms. And so, I’ve taken the last couple of years to rediscover what I really want. Who I really am. How to give myself permission. Who knew a counselor/therapist is basically just a doctor for the mind? We go to the body Dr. when things aren’t right … why doesn’t everyone go to the mind Dr. too?! People! We’re all just a little bit cray cray! We.All.Are. My first attempt at counseling was not very fruitful – maybe I’ll go into that someday – the second attempt – I was in it for me. Determined to change ME. Change is hard. Looking at your own mess is hard. But the alternative is to stay imprisoned in unhealthy patterns of behavior and thinking – which is the opposite of freedom. And frankly … the only person we CAN change is ourselves. For real. Sounds simple but … maybe we can unpack that another time.
So, back to this blog. One of my greatest fears is getting to the end of my days (which could be any day) and wishing I’d spent them differently. I fear that even more than I fear what my readers will think of my writing. I fear that even more than sharing terrible art. One of the greatest tragedys, I think, is not living the life we’ve been given … whatever that is … really live what we’ve got, ALIVE. Which, I think is one reason my soul died for a while there. I wasn’t living my life, alive. I was living it on other people’s terms, since forever. Waiting for permission. What.a.tragedy. I have so much to say on that … another day.
All this time the new-er nudge to write has not gone away. The life-long desire to become an artist, has not gone away. It’s like a bruise that doesn’t show. You know it’s there because it’s tender, just under the skin. A longing that goes unmet is painful.
The time has come. Enough of the reading, wondering, planning, thinking, and fearing. Truthfully, I’m not ready. I’m not ready for failure … I’m not ready for success either. I know not all will agree with some of my perspectives, I’m okay with that – but the judgement … that’s scary. And I’m afraid of what I may need to sacrifice if this writing dream goes where I hope it will. I’m guessing fear will just have to be part of the journey. Embracing the fear and doing it anyway, because the greater loss would be to snuff out that still small voice. I believe it’s the fragile voice of my soul. Every time we snuff out that little voice, it dies a little. (Soul care was something I read a lot about in 2014 – ask me for book recommendations. I could give you a whole library).
I imagine this must be what Earnest Hemingway meant when he said, “There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.” So I plan to do just that. Sit down at my keyboard and bleed once a week, every Friday. There will be reflections, art, photography, insights, lots on ‘what I’m learning.’ Sometimes I can’t know all of these details before I step out and trust that this is part of my story. I have no idea what it’s going to become … but that’s what life is all about isn’t it? A journey of becoming. That’s my goal anyway. I’m taking one more step towards who I want to become. It’s time for me to write. Today. The one day I have. I’m showing up. Finally! Becoming. Living. Alive. No regrets … I’d love it if you’d join me!