I've been thinking a lot here lately about how I could make some money. Well, I've been thinking about that for a little over a year now. I've racked my brain - go back to school, do medical transcription from home, find a menial job somewhere that requires little skill. My possibilities have been narrowing more and more as the days go by. Let's face it; there's not much out there for a thirty-something who's been at home for nearly nine years and knows a whole lot about nothing at all.
Sure, I guess I am somewhat sharp or intelligent, but I've got no piece of paper to verify it. I have a few talents, but all are rough around the edges. I have the dream but not much motivation or confidence in myself. I've been searching myself - the most secret parts of my heart - trying to figure out what I'd really like to do with myself and why I've struggled for so long to follow through with those desires.
I want to write. I love words. I love the way I can piece things together with the stroke of the keys. I like to chronicle my feelings and thoughts and the events of the day. If I close my eyes and shut out the world - my past, my mistakes, my insecurities and fears - I see myself sitting at an old typewriter clicking away at the keys. Why an old-school typewriter, I am not sure, but that's what I see. Maybe because I have memories of the typewriter as a child. I was fascinated with the machine - the ribbon, the eraser tape, the strike of the metal as it hit the paper leaving its mark, the ding of the bell when it reached the end of the line. There's just something about the typewriter, enabling it's user to legibly express herself.
I have this memory in the secret part of my heart. We all have it - the deepest part of who you are but the pieces that you rarely reveal. Well, my friends, I have many of those pieces. Broken little pieces of me that I am now trying to reorganize and put back together so that I can get a complete picture of who I was made to be. So I will share with all who are reading what I've discovered as the reason for my insecurity about living my dream of clicking the keys...
It was May, 1998. My husband at the time had just made a royal ass of himself by heading down to the beach with is best friend while leaving me alone at home with the idea that he was going away on a trip for work. The lie might have gotten him out of driveway, but a friend of mine called not long after he was on the road to tell me of his true intentions, none of which involved business. A huge mess ensued, and several conversations about our future together left me knowing in my heart that he wouldn't be my partner for life. At the time I was enrolled at AUM and enjoying a Creative Writing course. My instructor enjoyed having me in his class and even talked to me about my writing skills and encouraged me to polish them. I don't know why it was brought up in an argument with my first husband back then - I don't remember the circumstance. But I do remember where I was standing when I said something to the effect that I'd like to be a writer one day - to write a book or write for a magazine. And I remember his laughter at me, how he told me I'd never do that.
Did he think I was stupid? Incapable? Or was he more afraid that I was intelligent and capable of things beyond anything he could comprehend? Now, looking back, I know it's the latter. But at the time, I believed the first... man, he tore me down. Just did his best to tear me apart. Broke me into a million little pieces.
So here I am, 12 years later. I have been working at putting all those pieces back together one at a time. This blog had been such a blessing to me. To write again... it's something I all but gave up. But through this little piece of the internet, I've rekindled my passion for words, the lovely simplicity of our language. And it's what I really want to do.
I received a sign the other day. I won't say how or where, but I'll just say that there it was and it slapped itself in my face at the most unassuming time. And I heard a little voice inside me say, "Maybe I should polish up some of my favorite posts and take them somewhere and just sort of try to sell myself as a writer." It's the same little voice I've heard so many times in my life before. I haven't always listened to it or acted upon it in the past. But I must admit, looking back, the little voice has never been wrong. So why not take a chance. Take a chance on me. That I could actually do what I've really always wanted to do but never had the courage to act upon.
What do I have to lose?
So I am working on a few things, and I am praying over it. And I am hoping that the Lord will open a door for me so that my words could maybe one day bring Him glory.