your own dead end
2003-12-28 - 6:31 p.m.

My hands are weaker and I cant do anything about it, or about any part of my illness. I’ve been told by many different people that I should write a book to share my story; my dad tells me at least once a week. Its frustrating that its so hard to just sit down and write it all out, because I feel in my heart that it is something I should do – more like I need to- but I still haven’t put forth that much effort into it. Is it fear of having to relive all these events that make up the story? Having to remember and feel all the emotions and hurt that held me prisoner for so long? Maybe I’m just being dramatic now. If I were someone else reading this I would have already rolled my eyes a few times. Maybe that’s what’s holding me up: wanting people to like it… really like it. Any author wants their story to be liked and enjoyed, but I kind of also feel mine is meant to be more meaningful than enjoyable, so the chance of someone rolling their eyes or scoffing at my embarrassment really shouldn’t effect my motivation to write this. Then I let myself get discouraged and wonder why anyone would want to read something so depressing as my trials and tribulations, but then once again God opens my eyes and lets me see that silver lining that I hold onto so tightly. Its not a light story with a happy ending, it doesn’t even have an ending but it’s a story of some pretty tough circumstances and how the amazing love of Christ has encouraged me through it. But I don’t want it to be “fluff”. I don’t want to sugarcoat it with “churchy words” like mountain tops and vallies and anything else that makes it sound like everything is fine, halleluiah. God is my strength and my hope, but I want my story to be real and honest.

Okay, I’m just rambling…