The Pendulum Swings

It's been a long year. The latter half of which I spent injuring myself in increasingly unbelievable ways. From my knee (ACL and meniscus tear), to my arm (fractured elbow), to my head (5 stitches), I haven't gone a month without some awful thing happening, beating me down, and taking away my self confidence and usually carefree sense of humor.

It took me a long time to figure out what to write because of it. Yes, I've been focused on fixing up The Tempest and getting it in front of an agent's eyes, but when it came to writing a post, to talking to you guys, my friends, about what was going on in my life? I was lost. I had nothing my usual charming self could deploy. I was running on empty and felt I had nothing to offer.

Until I realized that a lot of us are feeling empty. A lot of us need comfort and love and friendships. Seeing people with perfect lives right now fills me with resentment, but it shouldn't. I should be happy for them, but their smiles feel haunting. Mocking.

I can't spin a joke out of what's going on in the media. I can't laugh at my many injuries yet ( I'm sure in 6 months I will be able to disagree with this statement). I can't even tell the story of how our car was stolen without the tiniest note of anger humming in my voice.

And then, to top it all off, Christmas is ON A MONDAY!

GIVE IT UP 2017!

I wasn't sure I wanted to share my many pitfalls this year, because it made me seem unprofessional. As a writer you should only show the ups! Right? .. Right?

Wrong. We don't consider writers the happiest folks. We don't say "Hemmingway was awfully put together!" and "What a wonderful marriage F. Scott Fitzgerald had!" Good experiences aren't what makes a writer good. It's why the starving artist exists and why it's glorified and romanticized.

It was from that that I've realized that most of you can relate. None of my friends are going through an awesome time right now, even though one had a baby and another got married. Sure enough, another friend lost their home in the fires and another's pets didn't make it out.

The pendulum swings.

If it were always easy, we would grow selfish and delusional and nothing would ever be good enough. It's only as the things you count on are stripped away, that you see who you truly are, how resourceful you can be with less, and find out what truly matters on this spinning planet.

And maybe, just maybe, since we've fallen this far and for so long, it means the pendulum has reached it's peak, and will begin to swing the other way.

I hold out the tiniest of hopes for the new year. I hope that 2018 will be the start of something grand.

Because we all deserve it.

All my love,
L.B.