Tuesday, January 12, 2010


After my last post about fuel, I took some time to evaluate my life. With the start of a New Year and approaching of my birthday, it seemed timely. One thing that struck me is that the circumstances of my life, have left me with very little opportunities to fuel myself. With five years behind me, of managing my families wellness challenges, and daily needs, there has been little time for me. Even before illness, there were infants, babies and toddlers to contend with, and a husband exhausted from an illness we didn't know he had. For me, 2009 brings to closure a decade that necessitated putting my loved ones' needs first. I would do it all again, in a heartbeat, to get my family to the level of health we now enjoy. I recognize that I am one of the lucky ones. There are many parents whose sacrifices and diligence don't bring health to their children, and yes, I hug my daughters a little tighter because of that. The sacrifices we made as a family have made us each stronger in ways we are only just beginning to appreciate.

Also upon evaluation I realized that this blog and my Mumblings give me an opportunity to have a voice outside the four walls of my home. That fuels my fires, and has helped me to learn more about the woman I have become. Writing has become my therapy and this blog my sanctuary. It has helped me piece together the incomplete fragments, of thoughts and emotions, and make sense of them. Writing has become my secret pleasure, that I have kept well protected from critical eyes. Unfortunately, I realize if I want my writing to continue to grow, critical eyes and feedback are exactly what is needed.

I have been struggling for months with how exactly to do this, and finally settled on line writing class. I wasn't going to mention it at all. It seems like such a small thing, when I write it out loud. Well it is proving to be not so small. More challenging even then any resolution I could have inflicted upon myself. I feel as if I am standing in the wings about to go center stage for a solo that is about half an octave above my range. What started out as butterflies is graduating to full blown bats. What have I done?

Writing without anonymity is like venturing into the affluent suburbs that surround my town without the armor of couture. OK well at least without my standard respectable jeans, turtleneck sweater and sensible shoes....(I'm a bit more humble then haute). Seriously. I figure it will take all of one essay read by my classmates before they all see through my charade and see me as meek suburban housewife that I fear I have become.…....

Still I have to have faith in the powers that have brought me this far. Faith in the woman who's stability and endurance healed a family. I have to believe in her, even if she no longer believes in herself. I swallow hard to hold down my fear and smile at how silly I have become. The first step, is always the scariest.

Deep breath......exhale. Time to take the plunge.

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