Things have been a bit quiet around here for the past few months. Not much posting. I’ve found since the fall, life has gotten a bit busier but more than that, I just haven’t had anything to say. Not that I’ve been quiet by any means (just as my hubby…) but to sit down and write about something has been extremely tough.
I’ve always enjoyed writing, from as far back as I can remember I found great joy in putting words to paper. It’s something that relaxes me but also gives me the opportunity to unload my brain in a way that spoken words just don’t allow. I’m not saying that I have important things to say but often times, when I’m wrestling with a problem or feelings or just trying to find words for something, writing (or in this case, typing) it out often gives me the outlet I need to process things.
Over the past 6 or so months, I’ve been on a journey. Truthfully, I started down this path several years ago but was only willing to travel to a certain point before distractions and the discomfort of wading through my big pile ‘o crap (think big massive poo emoji) was more than I was ready to tackle. The big question that constantly came to mind was so simple and yet profound enough to give me chills:
WHO AM I, REALLY?
Sure, we all ask ourselves this from time to time. We experience some kind of identity crisis or life event that makes us question our existence and maybe even wonder if perhaps there is more out there than we realize.
I’ve been hit with some pretty difficult truths. Ones that have always been there, just beneath the surface of a fake smile and and “all is well” attitude. Some are not for this medium. It’s just too personal and in an era where everything is completely accessible, there’s a line that’s not to be crossed. Maybe one day but not today.
The funny thing about this journey (saying this with as much irony as can fit into this small public space I occupy), is that it’s all about truth and lies. What is true and what is a lie. It’s a statement that’s 100% obvious and yet 0% black and white. It’s all grey, at least it is for me. I have questioned every single aspect of my beliefs, my doubts, my fears and my dreams. I’ve come to the very sobering conclusion that I have spent a great deal of my time trying to fit into someone else’s mold. Whether it’s what society dictates, my family expects, my friends gravitate toward, I’ve always made it about someone else’s dreams and rarely about my own. Why? Well…I’m still working on that part (if anyone has a quick answer to that, please…take all my money now). I’ve spent a great deal of my time trying to “fit in” that I’ve completely lost sight of what it is that brings me joy, gives me life and makes me shine from the inside out.
If I really take the time to dissect everything, I see a lot of shame. Not because I’ve done something wrong or that I regret necessarily but shame about the person that I am because I stand outside the boundaries of what’s “normal” to a lot of people. Shame about not allowing myself to be completely authentic because it’s entirely possible that it will isolate me or that I’ll be made fun of or rejected. It’s a lot to sort through and that’s pretty much what I’ve been doing for the last few months which is why I haven’t been talking much about the miles I’ve been running (also, I haven’t actually been running any miles…so there’s also that) or things I’m training for (I have started toward that so expect a glimpse into that area soon) and goals.
I will say that through all this, I’ve found a spark. It’s delicate and fragile so I’m protecting it like you wouldn’t believe. I’m also fanning it in hopes that it will flame.