I have a confession to make. Several of them, I suppose. I. Am. A. Writer. It’s taken years to write that sentence without feeling a fraud. But it’s true. When I write from my soul, I feel centered. Complete. Whole. The universe comes into focus, the words pour from my fingertips, and the truth appears on the page. But part of the reason for writing is to have others read the words. And this is the heart of my confession – I’ve been chasing readers. I have begun to believe the advertisements that flood my email and Facebook feed:
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How to Become a Successful Published Author
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The more I analyze and strategize, the less joy I experience and the fewer words I write. Thinking over the past year, I realized that I felt most connected, engaged, and authentic when writing the 31 Day Series. Writing each day, I didn’t have time to over-think. I just wrote.
My other confession is that I’m still very much in the healing process from what I’ve experienced these past few years. I may have graduated from therapy, but I’m still dealing with symptoms of anxiety and stress. My new normal is not quite normal, I suppose. But life goes on.
I comforted a sick child tonight as the thermometer read 100.1, yet again. Devastated with the prospect of another missed day of school, I reassured her that her body needed time to heal and the medicines needed time to work. I gave her lots of snuggles, told her it would be ok, and drew her a warm bubble bath. I sit at this moment watching her relax in my tub and realize I need to listen to my own advice. I need the same time, care, and space to heal.
It’s Ash Wednesday, you know. I received my ash cross this morning and wore it throughout the day. A startling reminder each time a mirror reflects the black mark upon my forehead. The ashes, burned from last year’s palms, remind me that I am broken. I am blackened ash. I need healing. I need cleansing. I need a Savior to say, Let me draw you a bath, dear one. Let me remind you of your spiritual washing that took place the day you were baptized into me. Let me take your place of pain and sorrow. Let me bear your every sin, your every shame. Write the words, Laura. Trust me to provide the readers.
This Lenten season, I sense a need to settle into something. I know not what it is, there just outside my reach. I make no promises to write daily, but I do pledge to write from the space deep within…to take a break from the chasing and renew the quest for still.
Post originally published by Laura Fleetwood on SeekingTheStill.com.
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