Six months ago, I made a life-altering decision. It wasn’t easy, nor was it difficult.
I decided that I, indeed, am a writer.
This was easy for me because I feel the need within me to write. I understand the burn that dwells in the pit of my gut demanding release. My muse is an insatiable little sprite that sits on my shoulder throwing ideas into my head. If I don’t write, I feel myself getting irritable, frustrated, annoyed with everyone around me. I’ve had periods of time where I wrote nothing at all. It wasn’t pretty. And, when I finally picked up a pen and paper to write, I had so many ideas and thoughts and scenes playing out in my head that I could hardly write any one of them down without getting confused. So, am I writer? I better be. My muse would be angry if I said no.
Why was it difficult? Many many reasons. First, and most importantly, my hubby does not understand the pains and frustrations of being a writer and not writing. He doesn’t understand the aching need to sit at the computer typing away until my fingers are sore, carpel tunnel kicks in, my neck aches, and my back screams at me to lie down. And because he doesn’t understand this, he doesn’t feel he should support it. Now, he’s never come out and said this to me, but it’s obvious by how he reacts and what he says. He’s very passive aggressive, but this is not a rant about my hubby or our problems (I have another place where I am whiny-frustrated-let-me-vent-it-out). If I were to leave hubby, this would be at the top of a very long list.
But, what has this decision brought me?
Freedom. For the first time in my life, I am getting a grasp on who I am. I have spent the better part of my existence struggling against the world, trying to fit in, trying to be “normal”, trying and failing because I am not me. I still feel it sometimes. I’m treated as a child among most of my family. I feel myself close up when I’m around them, burying the real me deep inside so that I don’t have to hurt. I don’t have to prove myself to them. But, everyday, I let down a little more of the mask. A little more of me is revealed. It’s a step. For the first time in this short span of time that I’ve been on this planet, I feel independent. I feel hopeful, relieved, open, honest, just plain fantastic. I know what I want in life. I know what needs to be done to get there. I am going to get there.
I will be free.
