A Tiny Little Light

Pardon the understatement of the year, but documenting a walk through a dark place is not easy.  While I've read plenty of reflections of life's infamous difficulties, I haven't actually read too many blogs in which people share this part of the journey as it is happening.  Not to go all "cliche" on you, but hindsight is 20/20 after all, and it is much easier, though I'm not saying it isn't difficult, to share from a perspective of joy and lessons learned.  It's no secret I'm not there yet.  Sadly, I don't have much else to give you at the moment but my wearisome walk, but my need to get it all out is strong.  There will always be pieces I cannot yet share, whether because it is too personal or because it is not mine alone to share, but it is in the hopes of finding a healthy way out of darkness, and maybe being a little inspirational as I go that I continue to post.

The point is all to say (and reassure my loved ones) I am constantly in search of improvement; of a little light to draw me out of this funk I keep droning on about.  It is with high hopes I tell you now, when I awoke this morning, I found my fight, my motivation to wiggle free of this unhappiness that has such a tight grip on me.  I don't know what was different about today (and I hope I feel the same tomorrow), but I made a decision to not look at my children one more morning and be overwhelmed with the sadness of not providing a better form of myself for them.

Whether it is human nature, something genetic in me, or a learned behavior, laziness and complacency have always been some of my worst habits.  Simply dwelling where I am is far too easy of a trap and one I've been known to fall into every now and then, but I absolutely refuse to be stuck here anymore.  God has blessed me with many gifts and I have taken them, like a new toy a child doesn't want to use for fear of breaking it and kept them in their box.  But toys bring the most joy when they're played with.  So, too, should I find delight in my callings.  I won't let fear, laziness, or a combination of both keep me from the many opportunities currently before me.

For many, many years, I have collected thoughts and ideas with the ambitious dream of one day publishing a novel.  Long shot?  Maybe, but I have always wanted to write.  In fact, my mind is constantly producing conversations and scenarios for beloved characters in novels I have yet to begin.  I have gobs of notes for at least three different stories jotted on random slips of paper stashed in secret spaces around my house, all saved for "when I have more time."  Well, I don't have any more time now than I've ever had, but I can't waste another second making promises to myself.  It's a "now or never" kind of pursuit at this point... and I'm choosing now.  Just a little writing a few days a week- nothing too overwhelming.  It may take decades to finish, but progress is my goal.  Besides, why not put all this emotional baggage to good use?  We'll just call it a therapeutic journey for mending my bent and broken psyche.  I have a sneaking suspicion that much of writing fiction comes out of life's little experiences anyway.

So there it is- a promise made to myself for the world to see.  I'm counting on your accountability here, folks.