The Truth of the Matter

A longtime – like 30 years longtime – girlfriend of mine noted that she hadn’t seen a recent post from me. I was so elated that she actually read my posts and more so that she looked for them. She began naming all the reasons why I hadn’t and was indeed spot on. I told her that she should submit a post here and she smiled…hmm we shall see.

It has been a week since that conversation. And not a single post was posted in that time. Why, you ask? Why indeed. There are plenty of topics on which I have an opinion and tons of goings on. I could have updated you about the ‘wee one’ getting bronchitis or how I have had bronchitis and am still coughing. Or that we had 6 more inches of snow this week and yesterday was the first day of spring. I could have given you my outlandish completely baseless theories regarding the missing flight 370 and how I really want the plane to have been plane-napped so that the people on board have a better chance at survival. I could have told you all about my little plants, or the wood purchases for a garden box or about the challenge that is my hair. About how my heart broke or how it heals.

But I realized something. That more than anything, I was afraid. Scared that no one would want to read what I have written. That you would careless about my ideas or opinions or random statements delved in my own idiosyncrasies. This outlet, this social connection, this information station could simply be a nothing. A non-starter. A failure. I am afraid to fail. WOW!!! I hadn’t realized it now.

I learned that I am afraid to die. I wasn’t always. Before my 27th year, I would have been pleased to meet my maker. I adore Him and had no regrets. Then a gave birth to a perfect being and fell so much in love that I became afraid. Scared to miss something, scared to not see him as a young man, frightened to not meet his children. I feared not being able to balance nurture with the nature, not being able to teach him all he should know and instill in him love of God, family and country. Oh there were so many fears associated with being forced away from that boy too soon. But mostly, a fear that I would fail him.

I feared failing you. Not entertaining you to the best of my ability. Not educating or learning or creating or inspiring you enough. Not being enough, for you, the reader.

I am getting over it. I am enough. I am alive. I am growing.

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