Tuesday, January 14, 2020
Here I sit, drinking a Coldbrew with Almondmilk
The inner pull to write will not let up. Here I sit at a local coffee shop, 309 Coffee, while Jordan is home with Justus and Daisy. I feel no guilt for taking this time. For years I have put off the idea of writing a regular blog because it felt selfish to be alone with my thoughts for a couple hours. I have long let go of that guilt. Jordan has spent the last year-and-a-half doing triathlons, marathons, working long sifts at the Fire station and training his rear end off to be ready to do the marathons and triathlons. There was a day last year where I finally broke down and told him I needed some space. I started homeschooling Justus and Maxine a year ago and a couple months into having them home constantly with no break, I about had a mental break down. (One of many.) He asked me what it was I enjoyed doing, what motivates me or makes me feel at peace. I thought about it for less than 30 seconds and said, "Coffee, music, alone time, and writing." It felt silly saying out loud that those things got me going. He laughed a little bit and said he couldn't relate. Obviously! This coming from the guy who can't sit long enough to watch a show, the guy who paces around the house looking for something to occupy his time. To him, sitting and writing is school. To me, it's an outlet. For years I have heard this tiny whisper to just sit down and start. A few months ago, I finally went out, sat and wrote. I started writing what I thought would be a Plant Based cookbook with a little bit about who I am woven into it. It is now 20 typed pages of my life. I think I wrote down one recipe and then went on a writing tangent. Those 20 pages hold moments of therapy I couldn't have paid a therapist for. I wept writing sections and laughed out loud looking like a crazy person behind the computer screen in the corner of a little coffee shop. I was shocked at the things that came out on that screen. Today, I wrapped up a section of it that feels a little too raw and real. I'm going to slowly chip away at this thing, keeping what needs to stay and casting away things that were only for my eyes. My Dad asked me the other day if he could read what I've written so far and it just made me laugh. "Dad!" I said, "It's really just like a long journal entry at this point. It's so not ready to be seen by anyone else's eyes." Maybe someday? Maybe this will all just lead me to what I AM supposed to be writing. I'm honestly not sure what that is. I know I have a lot on my heart to share and I'm hoping I can use this blog as an outlet again. The last time I wrote in it was roughly 6 years ago, so here's hoping I can be consistent again. I really don't mind jamming out to Death Cab for Cutie on headphones in cute, hipster coffee shops in my adorable Stars Hollow-Esq town while I type away aimlessly. If this isn't for you, I'll be okay if it's just for me.
Posted by The Real Life is Good at 1:23 PM
Location: Georgetown, TX 78626, USA
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