A Beginning

I used to blog for a few years. Diary entries of an insecure 20 year old, consumed whole by self-hatred, a waning ambition, and the disappointments that accompany a negative disposition.

My decisions and mistakes led me down a path shrouded with thorns. “You always needed to learn the hard way,” Mom would say. Recovering from a failed, young marriage, and sorting through the depression in feeling pathetic and unimportant, I became attracted to the sick satisfaction of wasted life and defeat. The self-destructive nature in me would delight in these ruminations. In the smallness of the everyday, this generally consisted of me listening to Interpol, looking at old photos of my ex and I, and crying to feed the misery I so enjoyed feeling in those moments. It’s already ruined, I might as well make it irreparable.

I made worse decisions, and climbed deeper into the darkness of self-pity. All of which culminated into the conception of my son. The revelation of his sudden existence in my womb and in my psyche was my lowest point. I would state differently, standing where I am now, with the knowledge and the joy his tiny life brings to mine. But I cannot deny the devastation I felt in those early months as I attempted to navigate the stresses of an unwanted pregnancy.

By the fourth month I made a decision, as grown up a decision I had ever made. I would keep this child and take on the sacred role of his mother, one that I had desired all my life. And it was in this decision that I began sorting. I sorted through all the bad feelings, relationships, thoughts, and people. I discarded the garbage and weighted the elements of my reality, comparing and dissecting every piece as I determined its worth and strength in my life. And I prayed to God a lot. In my weaker moments, I suspected that He was punishing me for past mistakes and for disregarding His truth of me. But most days I felt comforted. I felt God’s strength through myself, pulling me up, challenging me to be face His truth, and become better for myself and for my child.

When Samuel was born, we moved home to Kansas City, and suddenly life was blooming again. My life was never perfect or ideal, but I was happy and growing and so was my boy.

After ten months of being at home with my son, I have gotten a real, non-retail job as a marketing assistant at a law firm in the city. My life is a mandala, growing, expanding, changing colors, and shapes. Suddenly things are easier. Suddenly I am happy and my life has meaning, and fun, and love. Suddenly, the tide has receded and I can see the light of the sun revealing shades of color out of the darkness. And it isn’t perfect, but almost.

There are things I have been dreaming about my whole life, and they’re happening now, for the very first time. Things that define and awaken my soul. It pulls me into myself, the truest truth of myself, into my being and fills my spirit. I am happy. And I think that should be celebrated.

When I began declining, I lost interest in my life and in sharing it. I stopped blogging. I stopped caring about what I had once been passionate about. But if ever there was a time to begin again, it would be now. It is now.

So I have begun. I mean to chronicle this new beginning. There are so many things in this adventure that I have yet to reveal, and I am so excited about it. Language cannot accurately describe what I feel. But I suppose I must try since this is a diary of sorts.

Everything is getting better, like the Beatles song. That’s how you know.

Photos from a recent trip to my grandparents' lake house in the Ozarks. One of my favorite places in the world.