Challenging Myself

Thoughts and a poem for you

It's been a while. Writing is hard and even harder to share. I’ll sum up a small bit of the last few months. I turned 30- I feel the same. It's odd to think that we will magically change at the strike of a clock. I find gratitude in that. It is all a choice. I’ve always enjoyed aging. I’m a friend of wisdom and lessons only time can bring. My time on this earth has been a blink of an eye. 30 isn’t as old as I used to think it was. Again, wisdom has allowed me to come to that conclusion. The older I get, the younger I realize I am. My twenties are now gone, wrapped in a bow and tucked away. A lot has happened in the last ten years. Most notably, I moved to a new city. My first few years in Los Angeles were a trial by fire. I was tested and stretched in many ways. Oftentimes, I felt as if I was hanging on by a single thread, woven with my faith in God and perseverance. Now, almost nine years later, I look back to the twenty-one-year-old who fought to be and stay in this city. I admire who I was at this phase in my life deeply and owe her everything. While I was in what I would call the trenches of undergrad, learning how to live in a new city and balancing a demanding work schedule. I didn’t think highly of who I was at the time. I always thought I could be doing more or that I should be more. Being more than a full-time student and full-time employee sounds insane to me now, and I can’t believe I felt guilty for that back then.

The art of “just being” is lost on many of us- including me. I could blame various societal pressures forcing us to “make something” of ourselves or to at least appear that we may have. But I won’t harp on that today, instead I’ll implore you to get to know stillness. To be comfortable with who you are and where you are. Some may call that complacency. I call it gratitude. That’s not to say to sit in stillness forever, no. I believe most of us are aware enough to recognize the seasons of our lives. There is a time for everything. Movement. Stillness. Both are necessary. I was forced to slow down in January, I got a stomach bug and soon after I became sick with the flu or some virus. It spanned three weeks. I was so exhausted at the start of the year. I wasn’t in the mood to set goals or to muster optimism for the new year. Now, here I am in March, and I feel I’m slowly returning to myself. My energy is more upbeat; I’m social, and it feels like coming out of a shell. Today is also daylight savings time, so maybe that has a little to do with it. Either way, I’m listening to the small whispers within me, telling me that now is the time to challenge myself.

At the beginning of each year, I usually find a word I want to keep in my heart. Or I should say the word finds me. I see it everywhere or hear it in passing via strangers conversations. In January and much of February, I wasn’t sure what it was. By then, I hadn’t even reflected on last year or created goals for this one. I believe deeply in having a vision for the year and your life in general. So it hasn’t helped that I’ve been going day by day since the year began. Recently I sat and wrote out what I want this year to look like and a single word came to mind. Challenge. Stepping out of my comfort zone, allowing myself to apply everything I’ve learned up until now. To lessen the time between inspiration and action. To move. Putting the season of stillness behind me and pressing forward. I’m not entirely sure what that looks like as of yet. But it definitely involves being more disciplined and consistent in areas of my life where I’ve lacked both for far too long. Most important to me right now is my health. So, I am starting with that first. Of course, there is writing- I have many goals around my love for words. I want to submit more of my work this year to be published. Experiment more with characters and bring stories to life. I want to share more, finished or not. I want to release the work and not let perfection keep me stuck in preparation.

Speaking of writing, I wrapped up the second draft of my novel at the end of last year. It is scary to think about what's next. I’m still editing, but the story is there and on paper. I feel I’m ready for others to read it in its entirety before I go back into editing. That part makes me feel paper-thin and vulnerable. Is anything ever ready for an extra pair of eyes? But it must be done- a molehil I must walk over. So, in the spirit of sharing, I am leaving a piece I started a year ago and found sitting somewhere deep in my phone. I finished it and would like you to have it now.

 

In becoming the version of ourselves, we hope for and the version we prayed not to become but, because of ill-fated circumstances, come.

We bend to the point of breaking.

We break, shards of us scatter about.

We repair. 

In repairing, we leave behind pieces of who we were. Fragments that made us kind, loving, or forgiving-that once made us whole. Pieces forgotten so that in the next breaking there will be less to lose. Less to love, less to disappoint. 

So much of who we are is lost and found in time, love, heartbreak, success, and failure. These things being on opposite sides of their own spectrums-like a see-saw, we teeter.

It's in the middle of two points where we find balance. 

Being in between blessings, in between choices. In between peaks, there are long stretches of valley.

I’ve learned not to hold on too tightly to any one thing or any one season.

There are blessings in success, but the same exists in failure. 

Love is present even in heartbreak. 

So, these things at the ends of their own spectrum can not exist without the other.  

So bend, break, be made whole, and be broken again. Love this version of yourself, the version that was, and the version that is to come. 

If you’ve made it this far, thank you. 🧡

Until next time,