on with it. in Drifter in Zion

Somewhere between piles of laundry and the sound of little feet scurrying across the tiled floor, I stopped writing. I wish I could blame it all domestic duties: the floor still needs mopping, the progeny want to make messes and memories, while an un-watched episode of Dateline bids my favor, (because my life needs Keith Morrison), but my lack of composition has little to do with being busy or tired or uninspired.

Not long ago, I watched a video of a lady shave her head for no other reason than because she wanted to. Because it was on her bucket list. Because hair doesn’t define beauty. Because she doesn’t play into societal norms. Because she doesn’t care about haters.

She looked spectacular. Truly.

It me got thinking about how often I hold myself back, especially with writing. I didn’t go forward with publishing G&B because of my own worries: offending people, judgement from people, expectations from people -all of the people, all of the reasons.

And then I just stopped all together.

I will be thirty-six in July. Thirty-freaking-six.

I’ve no real accomplishments to my name, because I do what I’ve always done: run from failure, run from success – just run, until there is nothing left to take or give or create.

But living for other people’s expectations is too exhausting. I’m beginning to believe it’s easier to be more like the lady who shaved her head than whatever it is I’m doing. Someone will always be offended, someone will always pass judgement, someone will always think I’m below par.

I just need to be who I’m going to be, and get on with it. No excuses.