I thought by now I’d be a metal artist. But it turns out, that wasn’t the Story for me.
Because 3 years ago last week, amidst dreams and loss, death and rebirth, my Story changed.
While I endured Chronic Fatigue Syndrome (CFS), I learned this story:
I am weakened, fragile, vulnerable to exhaustion and environmental overload.
I hated that story. With my whole being, I hated it.
wall with stained glass insets from my creative journal
As often as I could, I sketched houses, rain chambers, metal sculptures, and more in my creative journal. I told myself someday I’d weld, someday I’d build art big enough to live in.
But my energy was so depleted that most of the pages in that journal remained blank.
It hurts to need a creative life without the means to live it, to dream big when one can’t take bold steps toward that dream.
It hurts far worse to fear one never will.
I woke up one morning in December 2008, and I was better. At first I didn’t tell anyone I thought I was over CFS. What if it was just one really good week?
It wasn’t. My physical energy got stuck on the “dance at midnight” setting and I became playful, curious and creative once more. At last!
But before I could take a shot at sculpture or architecture…
Three years ago last Thursday, I woke up with 3 characters in my head. I lay there thinking about how improbable Peter, Adam and especially Anna were. Questions and ideas tumbled through my head until I finally picked up a pen and blank book.
handwritten drafts of my first 2+ books
I wrote those first words on 1/12/2009, a couple weeks before my father went into the hospital unexpectedly. When I put down my pen on 2/28, I’d filled 2 ½ blank books with my tiny printing—90,000 words or so—and my father had died.
On 3/3, I started a second novel, also by hand. For my third novel, I switched to the computer to prevent permanent damage to my right hand.
By July 2009 I had 3 novels in rough first draft.
From my father, I inherited tools and workbenches, even a welder. I set up a shop and learned the basics of line-feed welding. Because when I was sick, welding “someday” was my heart’s comfort.
But three years later, I’m still not a welder.
I’m a writer.
Why am I a writer, not a welder? Why did five years of creative energy explode as a geyser of words, not metal?
Because welding would be fun and challenging, but I MUST write.
I write stories I need to hear. They’re about imperfect adults with messy lives trying hard to finally grow up. They struggle to find purpose, to leave their baggage behind and become someone better. They make mistakes and trip over their own feet. But in the end, they learn to dance.
photo by Brendan Lally
After breaking my heart for five years longing for that, I needed stories of the pain and grace of second chances, of love and struggle and grabbing the brass ring. I soaked them up as fast as they poured out of me during my father’s death and my own rebirth.
Stories help me heal emotionally without bitterness, and endure bumps on the road to better health. Writing helps me pay attention to the richness of people, places and experiences. As I write, I uncover who I am and how I want to live. Sticking with writing when it was pure ease AND when it was pure effort has shaped my new Story:
I am capable, creative, giving, growing, unstoppable.
Some people could have done all that with welding. Not me.
Because I’m a writer.
Finding, refining, and living this Story is the most invigorating, exciting, difficult work I’ve ever done. It’s why I started the Big Life Project, to talk with people like you about our real life stories, about what we want to be as we grow up / come back to life / claim Bigger lives.
Thank you to each of you who has been part of this conversation by telling, listening, commenting and inspiring! May your Story lead you ever closer to the essence of you.
Grow Your Heart. Live Big!
What past turning point changed your Story? What new turning point will you forge to make your future Story Bigger?
Pssst! If you join the Project, I’ll email you when there’s a new blog post. (Don’t worry–no one else will see your email address.)
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