This year I need to change my story.
I am not yet sure how I am going to accomplish this…but I know it means getting out of my comfort zone and pushing myself out of the past and headlong into the future. My future.
Today at lunch I shared my wish with my tribe. The response was immediate. Some were like “I am in!” while others threw out great ideas. One friend asked,”what is it you want to be-strong, quirky, fun, adventurous…” My response was immediate-I want to be all of those things. I want to be ME.
I do want an adventure. Go somewhere or do something—I don’t care. I need another warrior dash.
I want to do something fun for me-not the mom me-the ME me. The thing is–I don’t even know what fun for me looks like anymore. But I want to remember…
I want to zip line, jump out of an airplane or run and obstacle race. I need to get up, get moving and quit allowing the blahs to anchor me in my chair. Excercise, kick box, Zumba, yoga-SOMETHING. One thing is for certain, I am not going to change my story it I don’t do some work on me.
Get out of ruts, break free of pre-conceived notions, be less stressed and more creative….I need to do those things again. I want to laugh with glee because I’ve figured something out. I want to have time to think of new ideas. I need to quit letting what others think of me matter. I need to quit comparing me to THEM. I don’t know how I am going to accomplish this but I know that to do it some things are going to have to change.
Hikes, trips, tattoos, new goals-the suggestions were fast and furious. I have a lot to think about. A lot to plan for and a lot to consider.
One of the most exciting suggestions both excited and terrified me…that I consider attending a blogging convention. A place where real writers go and learn from each other. Real. Writers. But to even consider such a grand idea I would have to believe I was a real writer. Rather-I would have to believe I was a real writer with people who read what I write. Even more importantly I would have to believe I was a real writer with people who read what I write and to whom what I write makes them feel something…irritation at my grammatical errors, laughter at the predicaments I find myself in, understanding at what I face…basically anything at all.
So on my birthday I am going to give myself a present—I am going to ask if you read what I write and you (I can’t make myself use the word like)…and well if anything I have written pleased you or helped you or just was enjoyable to you in any way…well…let me know.
However I elect to change my story is sure to be documented here because, right or wrong, writing is very much a part of who I am. No matter how I change my story me telling my stories will be at the center of it-either published or not.