I spent a lot of time loving people who didn’t love me back, marrying men who weren’t dedicated to the marriage, confiding in people who used the info to harm me, working jobs that didn’t appreciate my talents, and caring about things that really don’t matter. Given all of the above, I am looking ahead knowing that this precious gift called life has been wasted long enough and living it fully is long overdue. As I approach another glorious birthday, I offer a toast to dusting off delayed dreams and fully embracing them as if there were no tomorrow.
I wrote the above post then spent forty-five minutes deciding whether I’d publish it. Why? Because it is so personal, so revealing. It’s too much reality. My cousin used to tell me that people don’t want to read ‘reality’ because we spend so much time living it. She says people read to escape, to get away from real life.
Yet, every thing I want to write, everything that is in my heart is real life. Real life has shaped my voice, chosen my words, structured my sentences, paced my paragraphs. Real life is what made me want to write. Yet, nobody wants to read it? Then I read a quote by Supreme Court Justice Sonia Sotomayor, “People who live in difficult circumstances need to know that happy endings are possible.” It made me realize it’s okay to write real life, so long as it gives people hope.
[originally posted 12/31/2013]