I’ve been trying to work on my memoir for some time. Maybe I’m
not trying hard enough. Maybe I don’t feel my life is at a point to where it is
complete. Maybe I don’t feel it is worth publishing let alone reading.
My life has been anything but boring. It has been laced with
Bipolar 1 and psychotic episodes, alcohol and drug use…marriages and legal
problems. But I’ve had successes and victories in my life.
There have been times when I have tried things and failed. I’ve
walked away satisfied just for trying.
Memoirs of bipolar and alcohol use are a dime a dozen. Who
would read a story of another? Sometimes I choose to believe the lie I’m just a
messed up freak who writes about dark things intertwined with stories of faith
and promises of good. So I quit.
Miserable humans we are, we sometimes feel, trying hard to
make our fantasies and deepest longings come true for ourselves. We whip lies
into submission until they become crystal clear reality in our squishy brain
folds.
But then, actual reality. The cruelty of truth creeps in
warning us to never do that again.
Then I think of playing
in the pain – not being afraid of the darkness, because in the darkness, we
find the light. And I’m reminded of that feeling crashing into your purpose and
realizing that you’ve been wasting a lot of creativity and energy with excuses.
Maybe you know what I’m talking about.
All of us have dreams. Those dreams are built around purpose
– what we’re made to be – what’s in our bones to do. And every single one of us
faces a moment where we decide whether or not we’ll go through with it. Every
single one of us has a chance to either push forward or quit.
And here’s the best news: even if you’ve quit, even if you’ve
believed the lie that whatever it is you want to pursue isn’t worth it or that
people won’t understand, there’s always a
second chance.
Your dream is worth it. You are worth it. What if you ran
with it? What if you didn’t give up and quit?
