One of my friends recently said "Remember when you used to blog?"
And I do remember. And I miss it.
Writing was carthartic for me. And it was exciting. And I loved the feedback that I got.
So I made myself sit down and think about various reasons that may have led to me stopping.
Was it because school had me down for the count those last two semesters? Trying to study, get all my practice hours in, go to five hour long evening classes after working a full day?
That my job was sucking my soul from my body, and I felt like I was losing all the qualities that I liked best about myself?
Was it because I was trying to end a four year chapter where my heart had been repeatedly shredded by someone who didn't deserve my love, but who I kept returning to, and to write about it was to admit that I had let myself down, and my God down?
And then I graduated... and euphoria set in. I wasn't just dreaming of being a massage therapist, like I had for 15 years. And I wasn't in school for it, like I had been for five years. I was done.
Until the studying to pass the national boards began. And again my life was put on hold, as I followed my dream. Countless hours of studying. Followed by hours where I didn't, but was continually wracked by guilt at the knowledge that I should be studying.
And then I passed the boards... and the euphoria heightened. I wasn't in school any more, AND I was officially able to practice.
The job search began. Each day at United, I felt a little more of my true self being stripped away, and I was too emotionally, physically and spiritually tired to fight. So I stopped fighting. And watched as I started to become someone that I didn't like. Someone that I was not born to be.
And then September came. And I took a gigantic leap of faith, turned in my two week's notice, and set out on my own. Yet not on my own, because I had an email from my dad answering the panicked question of "will you still visit me if I'm living under a bridge if this doesn't work," with "No, because I'll be on my way to pick you up." And I had an assurance from my Heavenly Father - a peace that passed all understanding, that I was right in the middle of His will, and regardless of outcomes, that was the safest place to be.
I felt my joy returning, but it was so new and so precious, that I didn't want it out there for human consumption in the blogosphere. I was relishing it. Bathing in it. Allowing myself to purge what I had hated from my past, and embracing what this new chapter would be.
I rode my bike. I walked the ocean. I sat in the sun. I spent hours with my nephews and neice. I re-learned how to just be.
And then Costa Rica happened. And my world was completely turned upside down. I found a place where I felt as at home as I do in NH. I found people who were open, honest and loving. Who have a sincere desperation for Jesus, because they know what it's like to fight real spiritual darkness every single day. Who know that stuff is not what makes life worth living.
Numerous times each day, standing on the balcony overlooking Anonos and praying for the precious people who live there. Praying that the Light will overcome the darkness, sooner rather than later. God answering the prayer of my heart to "break my heart with what breaks Yours." Forgetting that it's a dangerous prayer to have answered, because a broken heart is so painful.
I'm still processing so many things from the trip. It deserves a post of it's own.
And now I'm back. Not just from Costa Rica, but from the sidelines of my own life.
I am not making much money, but I am the happiest that I have ever been!
So in answer to the question of "remember when you used to blog?"
Yup... today.
