Yesterday in a session here at Blissdom, lead by Jeff Goins, we were asked to write something that scared us.
I’m already writing something that scares me, I’m writing this book, “The Weight Of Mercy”.
The title is a work in progress. But I’ve told people I’m meeting for the very first time that I’m writing a book, trying out the conversation on strangers hoping that if I say it out loud some more I’ll start to believe I can do this.
The book is a collection of essays and as my friend, Stacey, said (and summed it up pretty well) I’m screwed up just enough to make this work.
I’m young, at 28, to be writing a bit of a memoir in a collection of essays on how I’m having a mid-faith crisis and what got me there. How I found hope at the bottom of all of my brokenness and how I’m climbing the mountain to rise up to the real me.
The one I know I was created to be. The Me I can’t stop chasing (or running from).
What scares me now is that I have a seven year old version of myself running around and watching me go through this painful metamorphosis as a person. Wearing the many hats of my life all the while trying desperately to shelter her from the reality of maturity.
I’m really scared that you’re growing up too fast. And I’m so afraid to plug in and engage with you because I’m afraid everyone I love as desperately as I ever have loved you leaves me. And I know you will, it’s the order of things. You’re going to leave my nest and build your own, which I will champion, but I can’t stop torturing myself that you might not ever want to come back.
That you’ll run as fast as you can in the opposite direction – away from me. Mothering you has always been a little bit too much about me, honestly. You’re a girl, a daughter, my first born. And I’m drowning in the shadows of becoming this version of myself who can stand up for someone else, while never truly believing that I’m worth being stood up for.
We’re going to have a conversation some day that will break you. I’m well aware of what we’re moving towards – you’re ability to fall in love and capture the hearts of those around you. I fell in love the first time I tried and it was fantastic; everything is good for a while. But I sacrificed so many things to chase that feeling.
The good news is I fell in love the second time I tried too. And I hope you try more than I did, that you take your time and that you breathe in-between your broken heart and your full heart. Jessica, I hope you recover well. I hope that you make mistakes, but not the kind that will forever alter you. I hope the mechanics we’re building inside of you for Trust and Intuition are honed well enough to pinpoint your own direction.
And more than anything I hope you listen. Especially when it’s too hard to face.
I know my logic is flawed here, that by not letting you in these places of my heart I can protect you from the same pain in your life. This isn’t about falling in love either, I can’t wait for that day for you. Over and over again. It’s not about picking too soon, or not at all. It has nothing to do with who and everything to do with when.
And it doesn’t have to be a person. I knew I loved writing when I was 13 and I knew I wanted to take pictures when I was 15. Don’t attach yourself to someone because you’re cold. Buy a sweater, drink some tea. Lady, be courageous.
You already are, please don’t believe the lies that you’re not enough. That you’re inconvenient or bothersome. Push and push hard. You came into this world strangled by the physical link from me to you. Birthed with the cord wrapped around your neck, you fought for yourself from the first second.
Don’t let anyone ever stand in your way. Even me.