Most of my writing, lately, is in the form of bad penmanship in a little notebook by my bed. I’ve been busy raising my daughters for the past few years. All of the things I’m learning and the areas where my time goes aren’t directly “grace is for sinners” related. My kids were small when I started this blog. Now they’re bigger than I am.
As I grow as a writer, I’ll try different approaches and allow myself to go where it takes me. One of those places is a multigenerational word blog, Long Live The Thing. “…we’re mostly about real, raw, honest, and encouraging words…”
“There is one body, but it has many parts. But all its many parts make up one body.” 1 Cor 12:12 (NIRV)
My first post on that blog is up today. It will be a good writing outlet for my other passions. In the mean time, I’m working on another book. It will be my childhood framed as fiction.
Here’s an excerpt from today’s blog at Long Live The Thing. It’s called, “I’m not a Marlin”.
“I’ve been having bad dreams lately. It happens when my anxiety kicks in. It’s such a dichotomy within because I’m a breeze-loving free spirit, but stress wakes residual symptoms of PTSD. I talk myself through most things and reason that as long as my family is with me, nothing else can really break me. But, my kids are growing up and venturing further away, making it impossible to use them as my barometer for safety. I’m thinking that using my family isn’t the best tool for treating my stress anyway. I need something else. Something immovable.
I have four daughters: 20, 16, 13, and 10. Having one become an adult has been a huge wakeup call for me. People always say this, and it’s true, they grow up fast. I secretly cried for almost the whole year my oldest turned 18. I had put so much of my identity into being a mom that them actually growing into self-sufficient adults never seemed real to me. But we were on the cusp, and I wondered if I did my job right. Did I teach her anything? Would she survive without me? This thought process reveals more about me than my daughter.”