When my reader is empty, my to do list on hold, and my emails answered, I go through my archives and read previous posts. It doesn't happen often, but when I do get a chance to look back I'm struck by the themes... slowing down, enjoying moments, happiness, peace, looking at the positive. And yet, I know I don't look at life through rose colored glasses. Mine are maroon around the edges, lenses covered with smudges from little finger prints, but for the most part they're clear.
I write what I write a lot of times as reminders for myself. Because a natural optimist I am not. It takes work. Because the world is full of bad things and hate and hurt. And it tears me up inside. I easily get caught up in the difficult, the cynical, the dark, and can't find a rope to climb out of the abyss.
There are days where my personal space bubble has been burst and the pieces used as slingshots for words like mommy I need... and up!! {Paige speak for pick me up, hold my hand and do not ever put me down} and it sets me spiraling. There are moments where toxic relationships that should be kept at arm's length come too close and easily bring me down. There are days where I cannot get out of my head. And my head is not always full of sweet moments and cuddles and baby cheeks.
But I believe that there's a need for hurt. And a certain amount of darkness. I deeply believe in crying yourself to sleep, passing out amid sobs and mid sentence with God. I believe in waking up with puffy eyes, almost glued together by tears, and seeing the light of day. Knowing that life continues, the sun comes up every day, and with each day comes new possibilities. Without the hurt and darkness, we wouldn't appreciate that light. I believe that there is a little thing called grace, and it is amazing and worth living for.
I was thinking of all this on a drive this morning. And then Jason Mraz's song "I'm Yours" came on. And I couldn't hold the tears back. He sings "and it's our God-forsaken right to be loved... " and I melted. Looked back at my kids, bopping their head to the music, eating out of their snack bowls and holding their lovies. They are surrounded by love, and in turn give us such sweetness and love and make me gushy and want to scream at the top of my lungs how good life is.
That's why I write. To give light to the end of trying days. To appreciate. To give back in my own little way.
But when I write only about happiness and sunshine and roses the other stuff starts building up. The voices in my head that aren't so positive get a bandaide cover, and sometimes ooze from underneath.
So this post? This post is me giving myself permission to sometimes write about the dark stuff. To let this be a spot for everything to come out. To not tie each post up with a pretty ribbon. To just be me. This is the libra in me coming out and seeking the balance between light and dark that I so crave.
And I don't know what prompted this. Maybe it was reading too many headlines and seeing too many pictures from Haiti. Maybe it was reading the archives of Violence Unsilenced and feeling so much. Like Fynn buries his face in his blankie when Paige cries, crying himself because of his feelings for her, I so badly want to duck under the covers and hide until all the hurt that my ears hear and my eyes see is over. But I can't. So I write.