Time. Our most precious, most expensive, most under valued commodity. It's the one thing we use that we can never get back. There is no price tag, no refund, no exchange policy. Once we've spent it, it's gone. Whether wasted or enjoyed, it is always limited and there is no countdown clock to show us what we have left. There is no way to measure the value of time, only in the memories we create.
I've been reading Randy Pausch's "The Last Lecture", a book of short stories told by a man who had been dealt a horrific hand - a terminal cancer diagnosis while trying desperately to hang on to his role as husband, father and professor. This man knew how to live life, and he faced his cancer diagnosis with every bit of bravado he had given each obstacle he had faced throughout his life. Randy was well-aware that his time was limited and he wanted more than anything to impart whatever bit of wisdom he could to his young children and to teach the importance of living...of truly living. This has lead me to think long and hard about the importance of time. In some ways because I fear missing out...I think I always have...I always needed to be "a part" of things, to always feel like I was in on whatever was going on for fear I might miss something...well, whatever I thought might be important at the time. But, it's more than that. I give time...I give it easily in whatever form necessary to show whomever I'm with that they are important to me and that I value the simplicity of time spent together no matter what we're doing. I'm old enough to admit that I do need (expect) the same in return - at least somewhat, and find myself upset when I don't get that. I don't need much in the way of gifts, but I do need time. I think it's because, to me, it is so very precious and we only have so much of it to give so why on earth wouldn't we want to spend it with those we love? Yes, "quality time" is one of my love languages and little irritates me more than spending time with someone who is more interested in their phone than they are with me...I hate feeling like second place to a device. With time comes commitment...I'm not sure why, but for me it does. I need to know I matter enough to make a commitment...that I am valuable enough to commit time...life...to. I struggle with believing in myself enough, with loving myself enough, to think I'm truly worth that...at least that's where I seem to be at this point in my life. I'm having a really hard time making peace with some things right now and it's becoming glaringly obvious that I don't value myself enough to ask someone to make me a priority...to expect that they will...to not only want it, but to make it happen and not settle for anything less. To put a real value on MY TIME. I give...I give relentlessly when I believe in something, in someone...I will give so much of myself that I think I get lost and then I'm left feeling insecure and resentful and hurt...and more than anything, I'm left wondering "why?" Why wasn't I worth the investment, the commitment...the time. When in reality, it may not be about me at all. I mean, maybe a little, but most likely, it's about them and while it's really (and I mean REALLY) hard for me to give up on anyone, sometimes I have to. I have to value myself enough to see how unhealthy some things are and admit that it's just time to walk away. I have this huge hang up with feeling like I've made a difference, that I somehow mattered, that the TIME I invested in something...someone...was worth it - not so much to me, but more so to them. I don't know WHY I need this so desperately, but I do. Trust me, more often than not I wish I didn't need this but it seems to be how I'm wired. What I find most of the time is I'm left feeling disappointed because I'm a why person and a words person and typically when something ends we never really get anything that satisfies either of those things. What I do know is, once I'm done...I'm done. There is no turning back, no "second chances" because by that point I've given way too many of those and feel like a fool. What is it they say? Don't push a loyal person to the point they don't care anymore? Something like that. It's true. Trust me...once I've hit that point, I don't have anymore shits to give. The problem is, it takes me way too long to get to that point most often it seems. I'm either an idiot or a glutton for punishment...or, most likely, I see potential in people that may not exist and I want so much for them to see all that I see in them. It's a terrible flaw and one the eternal optimist in me struggles with constantly. (Sidebar: when I get to heaven, I'm going to ask why on earth my heart and brain do not communicate better - I feel like I would save myself a world of heartache if they did a better job of being on the same page. But that's a whole different topic.) So...time. See...for those of you who haven't read some of my past stuff, I believe strongly that we meet the people we're supposed to meet, when we're supposed to meet them and that we serve a very specific purpose in each other's lives. The problem is, we have no idea how long we get with those people and for someone like me who has a terrible time letting go, I struggle desperately with the intense need to know that purpose...and whether or not we accomplished it. Anyway...I'm not sure that this was where I intended to go when I started this post. All I know is this: time is precious...priceless...invaluable. There is rarely enough and it passes without permission. Make what of it you have count...
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I made a difference today. I know, most people assume I do that everyday given what I do, but honestly, that's not how I feel at all. I mean, I hear it all the time..."you must feel so good knowing you make a difference in people's lives" or "what you do makes such a difference"...but, what people don't realize is, it's still a job - one I love immensely, but it's a job, built around people and their lives and those lives are messy and the people living them are very real and sometimes it's really, really hard. I have many days that leave me wondering if I've made any difference at all, and sometimes, on the especially tough days, I go to bed trusting the process and the program but aching for the lives I couldn't change.
But today...today was one of the good days...today I spent a few precious moments with someone and I knew that what I said mattered, that she felt heard, that I gave her something to believe in...and, most of all, she said she had all but given up HOPE, but that I was giving her that very thing. Hope. Have you ever really thought about that word and the weight it carries? It's a word I believe strongly in, a very small word that means so much. I look for it in each family I interview - without it they don't stand a chance. I listen for it in their voice, look for it in the depth of their eyes; sometimes it's easy to see, but often I have to dig a little deeper and help them remember what it is they are fighting so hard for. Life is hard - sometimes by our own hand, but sometimes we are hit over and over again with truly unfortunate circumstances. Job loss, broken relationships, abusive situations, the death of loved ones, illness, car accidents, mental illness...all things we see on a daily basis. While one thing is typically manageable, the families we see have most likely encountered several within a short period of time so it's no wonder hope is in short supply by the time they get to us. And I believe it's my job to help them use what hope they have left to start over - whatever that looks like for each of them. Sometimes I see incredible things. Some days are absolutely amazing. I get to watch people, families, see their lives as something worth fighting for and their resiliency is beyond inspiring. I am humbled by them on a regular basis and feel honored to get to walk with them along their journey for a while. But, it's imperative that they know it's THEM doing the work, it's THEM creating a better life for their children. I can't do any of that for them and I wouldn't want to. But, there is nothing like knowing that something I do or say actually makes a difference if only for one person. And today...today, for one very scared lady, a few reassuring words and a hug did just that. Here's the thing. I've sat back the past week simply reading and watching, taking in details and opinions, feeling myself grow weary from the sheer weight of the reality we have created for ourselves and, more importantly, for our children. The truth is, I'm sick of all the political correctness we are all forced to live our lives by. A culture of carefulness designed to keep the playing field even, to protect the feelings of all without teaching a realistic example of how life really works .We have created an entire generation of people who truly believe everyone not only gets to win, but deserves to win. Trophies for everyone because it wouldn't be fair otherwise! Fact. Life isn't fair. It just isn't. No matter how you twist it, there are always winners and always losers (yes, I used that word because it's the truth). We are told that it's not polite to call it like we see it. We teach our children that if they stand up for themselves they will end up in as much trouble as the kid who picked the fight. In what world does that make any sense? And then we wonder why they are unable to cope when faced with a genuinely difficult situation. I mean, really?
My opinion about what happened at LMS two weeks ago doesn't matter. I don't have a child there, but I do have a child in our district. One who will be in middle school in a matter of months. What does matter, is that we as parents have the right and responsibility to protect our children. What does matter is that there are multiple sides to every story and I'm not naive enough to believe there isn't a child on the other side of that horrific story whose life has now been forever changed just as much so, if not more than, that of the child he took his anger out on. Yes, I went there. This story has two children involved, not just one. But, we won't hear his side. Hear me out on this. I'm not talking sides here. I'm talking about an absolute mismanagement of a situation - or, in all reality, lots of situations. How many children are bullied each year, each week, each day right here in the schools we are so proud of in our pretty little community? How many go unnoticed, unsupported? How many go home with bruises - both visible and, even more scary and costly long-term, invisible on a regular basis? How many incidents don't get reported, or if they do, get no real solution...because we are all so damn concerned with being politically correct? How many kids act out for attention or are battling things they are unable to express or understand and are never taught how to properly handle themselves so they take out their anger/sadness/depression/whatever on whomever they choose? Where are we going wrong with these kids? I refuse to believe they are just "bad kids". It's just not that simple. I know our schools are over-crowded, our teachers maxed out, with parents too busy, too tired to truly parent their children...but, what can we do differently? Kids are faced with even more ways to torment each other these days - cell phones, Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, etc. - all tools used to instantly and permanently humiliate and bully others without any real thought of the long-term effects mostly because they aren't mature enough to rationalize the implications of their actions. Here's the thing, I am having a hard time accepting that things have changed so much in the 20 years since I got out of school...I mean, did I live in a bubble? Was there no bullying 20 years ago? Oh, wait, there was. Kids got picked on, punches were thrown, nasty words were said...but, teachers and administrators were allowed to actually handle the situations right then and there. And, there wasn't the fear of getting sued by a parent for embarrassing a kid by calling them out when they acted like an asshole because if they were willing to do something that stupid for attention, then it was attention they were going to get. Bullies weren't coddled and enabled. Yes, enabled. I am sickened by the stories I hear that end with "my kid got in trouble for finally standing up for himself/herself because he/she wouldn't take the bullying anymore" - please explain to me how we are truly teaching "zero tolerance" if any situation has to get to that point. If a child feels like he/she has no choice but to defend themselves, yet is faced with knowing they will get in trouble for doing so, how are we teaching them true fairness? Again, please explain how this makes any sense. I have no real solutions. I can only offer my observation that whatever we've done in the name of civility isn't working. We aren't teaching them to be respectful. I know that's the idea, but it isn't working. I think there will always be bullies - there always have been, but I think that in the course of trying to create an even playing field, we've actually given them even more power and there is nothing fair about that. Perhaps it's time we take a step backwards and learn to call a spade a spade rather than sugar-coat things. Bullying doesn't stop when we get out of school. But, if we don't teach our children how to handle those people and situations - and, in turn, if the bullies don't learn that society won't put up with their behavior - how will they know how to react when faced with the grown-up versions of those people and situations? Zero tolerance doesn't exist in the real world. But, grown-up assholes do. And I can promise you, if someone ever tried to put their hands on me or speak disrespectfully to me, I wouldn't hesitate to put them in their place. Yes, all 4'10" of me. We, as adults, do not tolerate mean or disrespectful behavior...why on earth should we expect our children to? Isn't it our job to protect them above all else and then teach them how to be respectful adults? We are failing our children - those on both sides of the coin. It's time we face the reality we're creating and make changes. Parent. Teach. Lead. If we don't, someone else will. Who knows your story?
Who knows you, inside and out? Who holds your memories, your deepest secrets? Who have you let far enough in that they know things no one else does? Who have you allowed to discover parts of you others have never seen? Who has seen you at your worst and is still standing right beside you? Who do you want to share every little detail of each day with? Who knows your story? Who holds your heart? Whose eyes do you seek in a crowd? Whose hand do you reach for out of instinct because simply holding it offers comfort and calms fears? Whose voice can you hear above all others? Whom do you seek to share even silence because there is no one else you'd rather share silence with? Who knows your story? Our lives are made up of tiny stories...each of us walking through life, our lives entertwined and tangled, our stories criss-crossing in ways we sometimes realize, but more often in ways we will never know. Each moment building upon the next, writing chapters; sometimes destined to become an epic novel, and sometimes meant to be a few pages...a short story within a much greater book. But, to me, the most important part of any story, is the characters...the people with whom we share our story...the incredible, messy, beautiful, sometimes sad, often boring in the most absolutely perfect way story of our life. So... Who knows your story? Who not only knows it, but lives within it? Who chooses to be a part of it even when you don't make it easy? Who has chosen to share this life with you? With whom are you writing your story? 2014...I keep trying to write a summary of this past year and I find myself stuck at the same place over and over again. Blank. Nothing. Uneventful. Safe. Unchanged. Little happened over the past 12 months. I think this is one of those years where I should just let it be and instead be thankful for the quiet, the lack of drama, the lack of crazy, the...mostly calm year I have just laid to rest. What unrest I did experience was either mostly of my own doing, or ultimately taught me tough lessons that left me better equipped to handle the future. But, I think "safe" is maybe the best word to describe my 2014. I am ashamed to say, I basically sat back and watched my life pass by rather than do anything to help it manifest into something more. There are memories, for sure. It's not that I didn't live, because I definitely did, but for the most part I was stagnant...waiting for something, or someone, to change instead of taking the bull by the horns and setting the course for MY life. I've held back. I've refrained from saying difficult things that needed to be said. I've let others' happiness be more important than mine. I allowed others to undermine me and make me question my ability to do my job. I set my feelings aside. I've put myself in situations that caused me ridiculous amounts of insecurity and ultimately made me feel like less as a woman - in my eyes anyway. I stopped...growing...for lack of better words. I think that's why writing has been so hard for me these past few months. It's like I got lost or something. Even the things I'm proud of from the past year have just been sliding by with next to no help from me. How does this happen? I'm not sure. Well, that's not entirely true. I stopped putting myself in situations to learn, to grow. I pulled away from church and didn't make any effort whatsoever to be open to God's plan for my life. Clearly that's working out great. Thankfully I'm pretty sure He's still interested in me and hasn't given up completely on my hardheaded ass...I can hope anyway. I haven't made my interests, my goals, my future a true priority. I sorta set all of that on a shelf for a while not bothering to consider that without any effort on my part, nothing is going to change - and especially not for the better.
I still regret nothing...regret being the key word. There are definitely things I wish had gone differently, words I wish I had (or hadn't) said, hugs I wish I had given, anger I wish I had controlled better, initiative I wish I had taken, moments I wish I hadn't let slip by and effort I wish I had made. But, as always, I can't go back. I can only go forward. Never once do I think I wasted time on anyone. Never once do I regret extending grace - not in my professional or my personal life. I feel less guarded, but wiser. It might be the little voice inside of me screaming to trust my gut, demanding to be heard, pushing me to stop being so damn cautious and just do and say all the shit I've been holding back. 2015 marks 20 years as an adult. A milestone of sorts, I suppose. I don't really care about a reunion. I see the friends I most care about as much as possible (well, is that really true? I'm also fairly certain I haven't been making the same effort to see my girlfriends as I wish.), and while I wouldn't mind seeing others I grew up with, I'm really not interested in coordinating the thing. Later this year I will turn 38. I'm shaking my head even as I write this. I mean, really. Thirty-eight. It's a number, I know, and one half of my best friends have already hit beautifully, yet for some reason it just sounds weird. Maybe because I feel like I should have accomplished more by now? Maybe because I'm terrified of time passing by at the rapid rate it seems to be? Maybe because of all that crap I said above about sitting idle for the most part this past year...maybe. Regardless, this time 20 years ago I had my entire adult life ahead of me. Now...well, I'm choosing to believe I still have lots of time left, but I think it's also safe to say it's time to step up my game and use everything I've learned over the past 20 years and set the next 20 on fire! I still see myself as unique...maybe not as much (or as special) as I did at 18, but I still (for some crazy, unexplainable reason) think I have something big to accomplish, or that I'm somehow meant for...what? Something extraordinary...at least that's what I've always thought. But...I've also almost always just let life happen to me and while I think that was okay 20 years ago, it sure as hell isn't going to get me to "something extraordinary" now. So, now what? Well, I think I covered most of that in the previous post. I have this feeling about 2015. I didn't really have that feeling about 2014. But, this is different. And, I realize that by putting that out there, I am setting myself up for possible ridicule but what I'm hoping for is the opposite...encouragement, perhaps...good vibes, maybe...something we all need if we're totally honest. I have a couple really big things I'm thinking about for this year - none of which I'm ready to share just yet - but, that I know I will need "cheerleaders" for. Here's to 2014...it was what it was...nothing more, nothing less. Here's to 2015...all of its potential, all of its possibility...may we greet it with anticipation and excitement, holding nothing back and taking the days in front of us by the lapels wasting no opportunity and taking no one put in our path for granted. I have a box full of "drafts" - posts I've started and stopped for one reason or another, and as I was sitting here in front of this way too blank screen yet again, I realized that life is a lot like my box full of "drafts". We start something with really good intentions, often full of excitement and love ready to pour our heart and soul into whatever or whomever our current passion is only to then be discarded when we can't get it to work or feel like we want or need it to. We do this with all sorts of things...projects, jobs, people...and I would venture to say, if you really look at your life, you would see a discard pile of what if's and could have's and just didn't work out's. Now, I'm not saying these are bad things. We stop doing things for a reason and we have to pick and choose what we have time and energy for in our lives - I'm no different, I do the exact same thing. We try things out and if they don't fit like we need them to, we try something else. There is nothing wrong with this...unless all you ultimately find yourself doing is discarding...rather than finding things that are worth moving from the "draft" box into the "publish" (or keep, or love, or cherish, or save, or whatever) box.
By this point in my life I can easily say if you are in my life you are here for a reason, mostly because I value you and your place in my life and I've chosen to make room for you. I am fiercely protective of my time and think it is my most valuable possession...how does the saying go? Something about being careful about who or what you give your time to because wasted time is much worse than wasted money... I regret little. I believe that every one of my decisions has gotten me right here, in this moment, with the people in my life currently. There are things I'm questioning desperately right now, things I'm trying really hard to not beat myself up for (aren't we all our own worst enemy and biggest critic?) and things I'm trying to selfishly make peace with. As each year passes I find that there are fewer and fewer things I am for sure about. More and more I discover the importance of moments and the people we share them with. I continue to learn the impermanence of everything...that nothing is guaranteed and no matter what I believe or hope for or love or want, very little is truly within my control. I sit across a desk from people who ask my advice every single day. Sometimes they are struggling with things so far beyond my understanding that I am left shaking my head, but more often, we have conversations that leave me appreciating how very similar all of our most basic struggles truly are. Almost every one I meet is battling loneliness and fear of failure. They have been beat up emotionally be those they thought they could trust, and have been left feeling like there aren't many people who truly care about them. They question their value, their ability to make good decisions, their self-worth and their place in not only the world, but more importantly, in the lives of those closest to them. And, with every conversation, I find some point of relevance...some similarity...some lesson to be learned - by me, not them. I constantly say that this job gives me...teaches me...perspective. Not just about my place in life or about how fortunate I am, but more so about my relationships with everyone around me. There is no price tag or dollar value I can put on the people I share this life with. While all the tangible parts of life - all the things money can buy - are nice, they mean little without people to share them with. The wealthiest people I know may have little on paper, but have the good sense to cherish those surrounding them and understanding the absolute value of people over things. I've accomplished little this past year. I feel like the last 12 months have gone by so quickly and I'm sort of left with my head spinning. I'm really in no different place than I was this time last year, which isn't necessarily a bad thing but, like many of you, I had hoped for more and am struggling with a little disappointment. I have a feeling that 2015 is going to be an incredible year. I honestly have no idea what I'm basing this on or why I feel this way, but for some reason I just do. So, I'm focusing forward now and setting my "drafts" aside to make room for whatever is coming next. I'm praying that above all I've learned from these things in my past and that I'm ready for whatever is coming next. That's the real test, right? Life is about learning from the past so it doesn't repeat itself...so we are able to live intentionally and with thankful hearts, giving more than we take and cherishing moments and people rather than things. So, reread your "drafts" in order to learn from them and then create something worth "publishing"... Our healthcare system is broken - self-serving and designed for the "masses" yet failing miserably for many who need it most. The cracks in it aren't the fault of one man, and I'm not the least bit interested in a political debate about who created what plan or who we should blame (how on earth is something so desperately flawed the work of one person - it's just not possible so get over it.) We live in the most prosperous, bountiful, powerful country in the world and yet people still go hungry and hard-working people can not afford quality healthcare. The new system "works" in that people who could never get insurance before because of pre-existing conditions can now get coverage, but what about those who are too sick to work enough to make the minimum annual salary needed to qualify for the discounts? Here in our great state of Missouri, we have a HUGE gap in Medicaid coverage that allows way too many people to fall through the cracks - people who want to work, want to be responsible and contributing members of society yet can't because they are simply, sadly too sick to do so - these people can't make enough to barely live, much less pay the insanely high monthly insurance rates (nevermind the ridiculous deductibles and co-pays that accompany them) yet they (in their attempt to try and keep a roof over their heads and food on their tables) make too much to qualify for healthcare assistance. These are working people! Not people on the streets selling drugs or stealing or trying to take advantage of the system! People who need help, yet they hit wall after wall after wall and end up on the phone pleading with the MO Medicaid office, pleading for help to be told simply that there is nothing available.
This has nothing to do with my job - not today anyway. What I'm fighting for now is much greater, much more personal and I'm done sitting by while I watch someone I love get sicker by the day because we would rather spend more time fighting about whose fault it is, or blaming politicians rather than find a real solution to the problem. Truth be told, I know there isn't an answer at this point - greed and money have rendered that impossible. I have had several increasingly difficult conversations with my sister - someone who was born with a major heart defect that is, as we speak, doing its damnedest to kill her and because she is one of those unnamed aforementioned people, she doesn't qualify for coverage - doesn't qualify for the life-saving coverage that would allow her to see her doctor and get the tests, procedures and medications she needs to survive. Last night, after another of these conversations, I laid in bed and cried...no, that's putting it mildly...I sobbed, that gut-wrenching, ugly cry that finds you shoving your face into your pillow so your sleeping child won't hear you...I cried for Sarah, cried for all of us who love her and feel like our hands are tied - such a horrific, suffocating feeling - and found myself not only sad, but increasingly angry. Angry at the unfairness of it all. Angry that we don't know where to start to get her the help she needs. Angry that I feel helpless and can't stand sitting by watching her fight through exhaustion to work a couple days a week just to provide something for her children. Angry that I honestly don't know what to do and, most of all, angry that there are people bitching about senseless bull shit when there are real problems (and people with real names, real lives) that need to be addressed and solved. I don't ask for help very often - yes, I am prideful and for that I miss out on opportunities - but today I'm asking for help. I feel like there is strength in numbers - more minds, more hearts, more people must be able to do something. Someone must know how to navigate the system. I know I will never forgive myself if I sit back and wait for her to get sicker - something that is happening at a rapid rate these days - when I could have possibly done something, anything to help. No, we can't change the system in one day. No, we can't fight the giant insurance companies overnight. But, we can work to help the families who really need help, one person at a time. It's not just about money. It's about facing the issue. It's about working together to find answers and sharing information when we have it. We each have areas of expertise - use them! And then, reach out to those you know who need help and offer what you can. Unless you've found yourself here, you have no way of knowing how heartbreaking it is to watch someone you love fight just to live, only to know they must make desperate, awful choices because there is no viable option. Do what you can. Don't be blind to what is right in front of you. And stop wasting time on a political debate over something that can't be solved by politicians. Is it possible to see perfection in something imperfect? I was walking Charlie and saw this tiny, red leaf - it was much, much smaller and delicate in person...so much so that I bent down to pick it up and that's when I noticed the brown tips...the "imperfect" parts of what I had initially thought was the "perfect little fall leaf". As I turned it over in my hand I saw the crack in the middle - a "scar" of some sort, but from what? I know this is just a little red leaf; nothing special, it's brown tips and tiny crack represent nothing other than the fact nature has a way of touching everything. But, what I started thinking about was our imperfections...our scars...(both visual and unseen) and how they appear to others who only see the "perfect" version we work so hard to show the world. If someone stopped and stripped me of my bubbly spirit, would they see the insecurities I hide? If they looked hard enough, would they see the things I scrutinize over when I look in the mirror? Would they see the shame and the guilt I carry? Would they see my fears, my failures? Would they see the cracks in my past, the pieces that don't perfectly line up? Would they see the things I've tried and quit? Would they see my worries and longings for things to be different in areas of my life? Or...would they see me as a whole? Would they be able to see past my imperfections and see me, generally, as a whole, as something...someone...perfect? I suppose that's what I'm looking for. Someone...one person...who is able to do just that. To take every one of those things and see me as perfect...perfect for them...in all my imperfection. But...isn't that what we're all in search of? Even if it's just OUR ability to see ourselves as perfect...beautifully and wonderfully flawed, but perfect...
So...here goes nothing! Writing became a passion of mine way back in the fourth grade - thank you very much, Mrs. Barrett for assigning us to create a "book". Most students wrote a few pages. Me? 19. Typed, illustrated and bound; my "masterpiece" sparked something in me that, at times, has felt almost as natural (and necessary) as breathing. I wrote consistently for several years...filling notebook after notebook. Writing mostly stories about girls my own age leading lives I felt were just normal enough to be real, yet exceptional enough to be interesting. My friends passed these stories around giving me the drive I needed to keep writing. Until one day I just...stopped. The stories didn't come anymore and I felt like a part of me had died. I spent years ignoring that part of myself until I was going through my divorce and all of a sudden I found myself wanting, needing, to not only express some of my thoughts and feelings, but to also rediscover that part of me I had somehow buried/lost so many years before. For the past six years, "blogging" about my life has become something very important to me. I've shared my highs and my lows...writing as honestly as I can about life and all of its nitty, gritty, beautiful, unbelievable moments. What I haven't done...yet always want to do...is write an actual book - something totally different than what I do on here...a story, not unlike real life, yet full of characters I create. My dear friend, Lacey, encouraged me to try this...National Novel Writing Month...and while I'm starting a few days late, I've decided it's a great way to help me get started. Oddly, the first thing I had to do (aside from setting up my account on their website) was "create my novel" by giving it a title. Now, what you may not know about me, I am terrible at simple things like captions and titles. Back in high school journalism class, I would scrutinize over photo captions and to this day, I still struggle with simple, one-line statements. (It might have something to do with the fact I'm a bit long-winded....a rambler some might say...you think?) Anyway, I decided not to take too much time over-thinking this one thing and went with the first thing that came to mind..."The Space Between Us". I would love to tell you I have this great plot all planned out, but I don't. But, I know I want to do it...like it's somehow time. I guess we'll see... Here's to another chapter (hahaha...) in my writing...fingers crossed something good comes out of all of this!
Hello, my old friend...it's been too long. If only I had some real reason for not writing, for shamefully ignoring this thing I was so very excited about a few months ago. But, the God's honest truth is...I haven't been able to write. I have thoughts, things I almost think might be interesting enough to write about, but then, almost as quickly as they come, they disappear leaving only what can be described as half-ass, broken, matter-to-no one bits of thoughts that never make their way onto the screen. Sometimes, I don't write because when I stop and think about it, whatever I may have to say has already been said about 97 times by others who also think their words might have some impact on their readers. Sometimes, I don't write because no matter how much I preach about absolute honesty and the fact I want more than anything to put my thoughts/feelings/experiences out there for the world to read, I find myself refraining out of fear of...hmmmm, fear of what? Well, when it comes down to it, it's fear of failure, right? Isn't that why any of us stop doing anything, or don't even bother trying at all? We don't want to look foolish. We would rather sit back and do nothing rather than risk letting others think less of us. But, why? Well, again, I'm fairly certain it all comes back to the over-riding fear of failure. And when it comes to writing, I think it's heightened by the fact that words, born of thoughts, inspired by feelings, are so very personal. So, how do we put ourselves out there...even when we don't feel like we have anything worth offering, yet knowing that if we don't at least try we are certain to fail? Funny, as I typed and re-read that last sentence I realized how very applicable those words are to so many situations in our lives - certainly not just writing or even working or trying something new - but to almost anything. (Note: When something like that happens I'm reminded of exactly why it is that I write. I don't plan my words...they simply come.) I guess maybe the point is; practice, put yourself out there, learn something new, take a chance, don't be so afraid to fail, step up and just do whatever it is you want to do even if you might look foolish or could fall flat on your ass - physically or metaphorically. Isn't life about the experiences - the moments and the people, often best when unplanned when foolish failure could very well be an option, but isn't even a thought because you are too busy living rather than thinking or worrying? YES! That's the answer! Risk looking foolish. Risk failing. Just live. Whatever that looks like for you - do it.
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