It’s been a trying day. If I didn’t know any better, I'd think I was bipolar. Extreme highs and extreme lows. Just last night, we had our company Christmas Dinner. It was soooooo much fun! I was high on life and reveling in the energy and synergy of the people and the experience. Today, it’s been a different story. It’s as if my high has been cut off at the knees and I’m limping along. Hot flashes and fatigue have been the order of the day. Anxiety over getting my financials done before the holidays has loomed in the background making it hard for me to regain my footing. Yet in the midst of knotted nerves, God gave me a chance to do something to help someone else. You see, a friend told me how it gets hard sometimes to hold on to her dream. Car problems and other challenges can make it hard to stay the course. She told me how my blogs and articles inspire her to hold on.
Little did this friend know that I understood oh too well her struggle. Sometimes when I write, the desire to do it full time becomes so overwhelming that I can hardly take it. Everyday I go to a job that is a blessing, most definitely, but is not structured to make room for my truest gift and truest calling, it's h-a-r-d. I feel anxiety wanting to overtake me. It is all I can do to get out of bed and get motivated. My mind tells me that I need to get up and my heart aches for something more. It’s not that I need the encouragement to write. I have to write. It is a necessity for my own sanity and sense of well-being to express myself on paper. I don’t struggle with that. The struggle is the desire to use my voice to help humanity. The struggle is wishing I could afford to do this all the time. I think I’ve released pigeon-holing it. I’ve said yes to whatever venue or platform puts a demand on my gift. Whether it’s writing, coaching, motivational speaking or group facilitation, I'm open. Who knows, there may be something out there that has my name all over it that I haven't even fathomed. I just want it to be suitable for me. I just want the fulfillment that comes from doing what you were born to do.
One things for sure, I know this isn't just a passing phase. When I feel the most feeble or the most vulnerable or my faith gets weak, I can start to write and before I know it, my fingers type the very thing I need to hear. Something takes over that is greater than the struggle.
I have absolutely no idea of what to do besides what I’m doing – writing and sharing it with the cyber world. In my mind’s eye, I imagine a word, a phrase, a thought that travels at lightning speed across cyber space. Right now, someone in Indonesia or in Europe or in Italy or maybe in my own neighborhood is asleep while I’m typing. And while I’m sleeping, they will be reading something that I wrote. They’ll email it or share it or tweet it. Someone will take their past off life support. Someone else will read that true love doesn’t hurt and will leave an abusive partner. Someone will stop living a fictitious life and make a courageous step into authenticity.
To some, that might sound like wishful thinking. And there'll be others who think I'm wasting my time. But same as the person who says they want a job but won’t leave their home or send out a resume, if I stop now, I'll never ever get what I desire.
Maybe that’s what makes the impossible possible: the action, the energy. It’s the doing what your heart loves that creates the tangible. It’s what builds a bridge from where you are to where you are going. It’s what produces the substantiveness called faith. So despite how hard it gets or how thankless my efforts seem at times, I press on. I press on when I get published. I press on when I get rejected. I press on when I'm understood. I press on when I'm misunderstood. I press when it's easy to write. I press when I feel like I gotta fight for every single word. Through thrills, through spills, through see-nothing days, I press. There's something inside that's greater than the struggle.
