Have you ever prepared for a move or begun Spring Cleaning and come across something you’d almost forgotten existed? You brush off the dust and for a split second may even forget how to use it — like an old instrument (I’m looking at you, Elementary School recorder).
That kind of feeling is what I’m experiencing.
It’s been 7 months since I last wrote here.
Prior to that, it was roughly 9 months between passages.
They feel heavy and dusty, these fingers on the keyboard. Musty, are the trains of thought in my head. Still, this is a part of me. I don’t want to abandon it completely.
Recently, I had breakfast with an old friend whom I hadn’t seen or sat down with in a long while. She is a person who I truly enjoy being around. A personality that is contagious and a smile that is warm and inviting. I had asked her how one of her former hobbies was going, and she explained that she laid it aside to focus on that which more engaged her spirit and filled her more deeply with purpose. She stated that writing, for her, didn’t bind together the fabric of her soul like she knew it does for me. Even though we hadn’t caught up in a while, she knew something about me that I had almost forgotten was true. That I had subconsciously diminished without explanation of reason.
It was a kindness, to hear that such a part of who I am is recognized by others. I didn’t make it up or imagine it. This creative endeavor truly opens my eyes, widens my vision, teaches me more than any other medium for all things are processed through this verb: writing.
I could turn this into a cookie-cutter “let’s catch up” post – like a TV show’s Season Premier where to ensure you aren’t lost, has a “previously on ______” 30 second segment to tie it all in a bow and get you ready to continue the journey.
I could do that. Yet that would take more energy than merely returning to the fold without pomp or apology. (Though obviously I want to apologize. I hand those out like candy at Halloween. Here, take it all. Now you like me, right? You’ll want to come back, yes?)
Instead, I have the energy only to peek around the corner from behind the door I’ve lurked.
I’ll say instead that I’ve been busy living a life that snuck up on me. I’ve spent days and hours on new adventures. Dating, traveling, becoming engaged, getting married….when you shift your one-seat bike to a tandem, you have to learn all over again how to function at every turn. Isn’t that surreal? It is also terrifyingly amazing.
I picked up a book yesterday. It felt comforting to sit in silence and gaze at paragraphs and pages and engage my mind in a refreshing, familiar way. Two of my most treasured expressions: writing and reading – have been patient with my absence and welcoming in my return. I regard reading as an expression, because it is the forfeiting of your own surroundings to fully engage in what you are about to do. Well, I say that as it pertains to a book that can awaken my interest. Even I know that not all books can do that for all people.
I’m reading Daring Greatly, by Brené Brown. A couple of years ago I bought a few of her books. I have started “I Thought It Was Me, But It Isn’t” quite a few times, which speaks of me, not the book. The book will be a vital read for me and I’m looking forward to it very much. Yet Daring Greatly grabbed my attention as I took a moment for myself yesterday and I knew – it is time for this. I am on page 53 already and know that I won’t be putting this one down unfinished.
Non-fiction books take more of a commitment in my opinion, than do fiction books. They require more of your cognitive awareness. More comprehensive analysis most times. It’s not an escape to a new world, it’s an unavoidable excursion into the one we already live in, for better or worse. They are challenging and I appreciate that. I don’t always have the energy for it, but I always appreciate it.
I haven’t always had the easiest time with vulnerability. News flash, right?
While I’m sure no one actually thinks otherwise, our flaws are only magnified in Marriage. They don’t hide away for long and even though you’ve entered into this phase of life committed to one another and fully aware that the other person holding your hand is imperfect just like you, it’s still a haunting reality: I can’t hide from this person. My junk is just going to get louder and bigger and ew…I don’t want to do this.
That’s basically what this book speaks on: the act of being vulnerable. The fact that while one can attempt to live a life without it, it will be a dark, lonely choice and there is so much more wholeness and freedom when we step into the brave of being seen for who we are. That true vulnerability is choosing to be thus, without it being contingent upon the reaction of another when we are revealed. And to think, I’m getting all of this while only 53 pages in. It’s gonna be a ride, I can tell.
Bottom line, I’m going to try many things again. I’m ready to clean out the corners and dust off the practices I want to perform and the catharsis in which I want to partake. It began here, tonight. I took the deep breath and tried typing again. This one may be all over the place and I would like to say I’ll get better, but in reality I am a person who can be all over the place and as I say to my husband when I do something worthy of rolling eyes and confused looks: “at least I’m not boring!” To which he always voices appreciation and smiles right along with me.
I’ll close with a sentence that holds great power and is worthy of truly contemplating, from Brené’s pages: