I grew up in a small Southern town. Most people know that the South places a large emphasis on family. Southern parents cannot wait for their children to get married and have children of their own. Most girls are encouraged to get an education, but they are also encouraged to get married early and start families. A lot of my friends and acquaintances from school are married and have children or are married or have children. Growing up, I always thought I would be married and have kids by the time I was the age I am now. But it has not happened for me yet. I haven’t found the right person. For the longest time, it’s like my life has been on hold. I’ve been waiting to live it. I’ve been waiting to find someone, and then I’ll move out of my parents’ house. I’ve been waiting to get married, and then I will travel the world and do all the things I want to do. I’ve been waiting to have children, and then I will be happy. I was in a reflective mood a few days ago, and I realized that the only thing holding me back from living my life is…me.
There are so many things to see and experience, and enjoy in life. But I’ve been waiting. I want to go to Harry Potter world in Universal Studios, I want to see the world, and I want to write a novel. The only reason I haven’t done any of those things is because I’m holding myself back, and for what? For the life I imagined I would have? For someone to share it with? What if I never find that person or get to the imaginary point where I think I need to be? I will have wasted my whole existence…just waiting. I’m learning that I might never get married, and that’s okay. I’m learning how to be happy just being me. I don’t have to wait for the “right” circumstances, because let’s face it, they might never come. I can experience the world; I can have adventures; I can enjoy myself; and I can LIVE. I’m done holding myself back; I’m done waiting.
There are times when I want to be creative and write something witty or poetic. But my brain hates me, and I cannot think of anything funny or beautiful to say. Because sometimes words fail us. And since I’m not so great at drawing or painting or sculpting I guess in this case words and actions both fail me. I once drew a horse, and my friend asked me if the horse was supposed to be dying. He said it looked sick. (In case you thought I was exaggerating about not being able to draw.)
(Wow, that horse has a huge butt!) And That’s why my blogs are written three months apart instead of three days apart (like I would really like to do) because sometimes words fail me. Because. My. Brain. Hates. Me. Y’all. Some writers, Ahem…Jenny Lawson, always seem to be either witty or inspirational pretty much 24/7, and I love them for it.( I also hate them a little for it, because why can’t I be like that? And come on Jenny, you’re just naturally awesome.) So I have decided that I am going to try to write more. Even when my brain hates me; even when words fail me; and even when writing is the last thing I feel like doing. Because writing feels like life. Writing feels like not giving up. Writing feels like no matter how crappy the crap is that I’m crapping out right this minute maybe the next sentence I type will be better. And the sentence after that might be better still. Until one day maybe I will have a whole blog post of great sentences. And then a book full of them. And when that happens maybe I won’t feel like I’m just pretending to be a writer. Maybe I will stop doubting my abilities and realize that I am pretty good at this stuff sometimes. And maybe not. One thing about life though, it’s better to look back and say that you tried, and failed, than it is to say you never had the courage to try at all. I only have a smidge more courage than the cowardly lion, but I won’t get more courageous by hiding in the dark. So these are my words, this is the light I bring to the world, and I really hope you like it.