Finding My Why

I write because it is scary. No, I write because it is a relief to get words on paper. I believe my training in goal setting and in taking action in my retail career is what is making me a writer today. I also believe meditation during the most challenging times gave me the confidence to follow through. I started my blog in 2008, and I haven't stopped since. I was told different things about my writing. Geralyn, who cares? That was a big one! So, sometimes I would just write and not share it (thinking no one would care). Then someone out of the blue would tell me not to stop. Then I would hear it is SO personal what you share. And, then I would pull back again. Then I would hear your latest post really inspired me. Then I would hear you write like your life is like a fairy tale, and I know it is not. So, that is why I shared the picture of the house I lived in from 2021 until 2022. This house I rode by for many years. I would wonder who lives there. I imagined a writer living there. I imagined me living there. I would have a desk at the window on the very top. I would look out the window and see the ripples of the water glittering night and day. It would inspire me into a trance of constant thoughts to paper. There is NO way I would have lived in that house if I remained married. The year before, though I actually thought of renting a place for a week in Ocean Grove. Just to have an experience I had been imagining. But, what happened was I was full of anxiety and deep rooted fear when I lived there. I wouldn't open the curtains, and bascially went to bed when I got home from work. But, I couldn't sleep. So, eventually I would go out for the sunrise. As, soon as that big ball of fire arose, I headed back to the house. It burned my eyes. I couldn't bear looking at the brightness of another day. Eventually, after my landlord and I both had COVID as we greeted 2022. Something I was very afraid of, had actually happened. Then I was in bed for fourteen days, and I lost another ten pounds. My landlord took off to Florida, and I was in that house by myself. I can't think of one day I really enjoyed myself there. And, I didn't write a word. It was an underlying fear even if I got what I wanted, someone or some thing was going to take it away from me. I also had to find a place to live in the most rediculous housing shortage. In the beginning I started looking for a storybook cottage. It was amazing what I could afford with 3% interest rate. They were adorable with stone fireplaces, and two bedrooms. I actually got invovled in the open houses on the weekend, and bids in on Mondays. I had enough control of my emotions, I just stayed in the game. But, never bid enough for my offer to be accepted. So, my time in this house was not a fairy tale. Because, how much I was driven by fear. Totally understandable and allowable I felt. So, this is why I write like my life is a fairy tale. Because, it is!!!! I lived in that frickn' house. I didn't play a damsel in distress ( I felt like one). But, no I was going to succeed life, and no one was going to stop me. I am going to live happily ever after. And, feel happy and feel scared at the same time. And, I am going to have it all on a blog. When I had the store I enjoyed writing the blog the most. But, I continued with it for no other reason, I found joy in it. I woke up and felt like writing, and so I did.