I had a dear friend tell me today, that she felt, not thought, but felt she was a “waste of space”. Although we are about the same age, I never felt so much that I wished I was her mom. To get to the point we’re at in our lives, and to feel that way, someone along the way did her a grave injustice.
So, to her and to any of you who feel that way, there’s something I need to tell you.
I believe everything you go through in life, creates you. All the ugly, all of the ugly that has been done to you, and all of the ugly that you’ve done to others is a part of you. The same goes for beauty, but it isn’t the beauty that builds you. I think when you’re knocked down, and you struggle to breathe, that is when key parts of you are formed. If I could, I’d make that go away for all of us. But I can’t.
However, and yes this is a big however and a leap of faith, all of those things come into play into the person you are, and you are nowhere near a waste. Maybe you just haven’t figured it out yet, but all of these things are teaching you where to draw strength. There will come a time that someone who had it easier, who had the ideal family, the ideal situation may be unequipped for what life has in store. I believe that it is that time, that those of us who have been through it, through the pain and the mud and the muck, that we may be called to stand up for something, or someone, and damn right, we’re going to do it. Because we’re not unaccustomed to fear, and we haven’t yet been broken. We’re still here. There’s something to be said for still being here.
Do not underestimate your value, because damn it, you are valuable. Do not underestimate your worth, because damn it, you are worthy.
Some of us don’t have the words, which is why others of us write. Sometimes we might just be able to give you words that can bring you some peace. Believe me, if I can do that for you, it is a gift I treasure more than I can adequately express. It is not a task I take lightly. When you pick up a book, when you watch a movie, when you think instead of default to what people say you should think, you are creating, you are using your mind. You just haven’t found your outlet yet. It’s not too late, and maybe it’s just too soon. As I tell my son, the time for patience is when you have the least to spare.
Now, for some lighter fare, I am off to the land of the mouse next week and shall be back (barring my suspicions about it being a real-life Dr. Who episode, in which case, well, I may be in the future or the past, but I digress. If the mouse starts to zip off his face, and the pig people start attacking, I’m so out of there).
Since there seems to be some dragging of feet about getting our work done, I think we need a contest. The winner will receive a secret object guaranteed to bust up writer’s block/get you to finish your novel, memoir, nonfiction, whatever/make you look 10 pounds lighter/permanently get rid of grey hair! Yes! Onward.
I saw this couple in front of Union Station. Late sixties. She had brown hair, dyed at home, faded toward the roots. She wore makeup but was not overdone. She wore a purple plaid tweed coat, and black sensible shoes and walked a couple of inches in front of him. She carried a lime and brown, Vera Bradley bag.
He had a tweed coat, and a worn, off-white, button-down shirt. He had the appearance of a retired professor. I’m 5’9″, so I’d guess they were no more than 5″5″, identical in height. He wore a bright red, knitted beret, that was a hair too small for his head. What little hair he had was just over his collar.
They both had deep wrinkles, and were not happy and relaxed in each others company. There was something about their expressions, that was not angry, but not happy either.
The contest! Write anything you want, a sentence, a paragraph, all dialogue or none at all, take a photo, there are no rules. What is their story? Where are they going or where have they been? Anything at all that you want to say about this little couple, and any way that you want to say it. It’ll be open all week, so enter as many times as you want.