There was an error in this gadget

Sunday, March 29, 2015

Start From Where You Stumbled

I took photos today. Photos of the kids for an Easter card that I *will send out. And then I opened my laptop and started reading my blog. The kids! They've changed!! Me too...I've changed. I'm different. Still awkward, still clumsy...those things will never change. But I'm humbled. I'm guarded. I'm weak. I feel on display. I don't let many people know about me or my screwed up life and if anyone asks I laugh, because I haven't lost my sense of humor and my life is totally laughable right now.

And then I realized just how much I miss writing. I miss taking photos. I miss hearing my fingertips typing out my thoughts. The thing is though, I've missed something bigger without even realizing it. I missed documenting a whole year of the kids. I missed taking photos of birthdays and holidays and things they've said and done and how they've grown. I know there's no going back. There's no such thing as do-overs. Just like in a race, if you stumble and fall, you can't go back to the starting line. All you can do is pick yourself up, brush off your dirty, maybe bloodied knees, and start from where you stumbled. Keep going one step at a time. Sure, you're embarrassed, everyone saw you fall. Yes, you're probably a little hurt and may end up bruised, but unless you accept failure; unless you just lay there and let people run all over you, you don't have a choice but to start from right where you are. Unbalanced, unsure at first. Just keep running and with each step your hurt fades, your embarrassment isn't colored on your cheeks in the brightest of reds, your pride and ego are bruised but over time that humbleness turns into empathy for others that have fallen before you and will stumble after you. You have a greater understanding for what it means to be in pain and you can put your pain to good use over time.  

Everyone has a story to tell, and I may never share my whole story, but I might be able to listen to others' stories; offer a hand to help them up; give a word of encouragement like others have given to me.

I'm ready to write again. I'm ready to take photos of sunsets and blue skies and flowers and write about running. Oh the running! The magical part of my life that has saved me from myself over and over again. Running has given me more than I can ever give back. Running is my passion; my happy place; my escape; my therapy; my prayer.

I'm ready to open the creative part of my brain that shut itself off when I was just trying to remember to breathe and remember the reasons why I should *keep breathing.

I'm ready to document the little things and the big things and the happy birthdays and the Merry Christmas' of my kids' lives again. I want them to read my stories here, and I want them to know that they are always and have always been loved. I want them to know that I chose to fight my wars with glitter guns to minimize the scars of their childhood. I can't get last year back, but I can start from today.

I can brush off my knees and write some words today.