You know those things that make us shift and squirm, feel uneasy and nervous?
I feel like I’m finally learning to coexist with them.
This used to be one. The mere thought of posting something before the end of each day for all the world to see (forgetting for a moment that that not even one percent of the world knows I exist) used to make me avoid the keyboard until the very last minute.
The first post was written easily enough, I suppose, but then came the “publish” button. Then came the thought of whether or not I could do this every day — for thirty days. That it’s been more than two years sort of freaks me out. If I stop now, in my opinion it’s on par with a mother abandoning her child.
So I continue. I continue because not only am I not in the mood to abandon, but because I’m as curious about my next post as a mother would be about her child’s day.
A blog is the least of my worries, though. There are thoughts about life and money, love and future; job and health, faith and eternity. Not all have worry attached to them, but they do make up a pie, of sorts, of where my thoughts go on a daily basis.
The fact that I have avoidance down to a science — and that the blog agita two years ago taught me a good lesson at 35 — has inspired me to alter my course. If I can utilize a public forum for my writing, why then would I not be able to take the reins on parts of my life that aren’t public at all? The fact that they’re intensely personal and have as much a hand in my tomorrows as a heartbeat implies that each shouldn’t be an afterthought, but a driving force each day.
A byproduct of avoidance, sticking one’s head in the sand when it comes to the big stuff — the important stuff — is abandonment in its purest form. Abandonment of care, abandonment of self.
Tonight I am thankful for realizing that as much as there may be on my plate, the plate will magically expand when we make time for us and engage in the areas of our life that we were meant to engage in all along.