Updated: Jan 10
Stick with me for a bit if you can. This one might take a minute. If you can’t, no worries. This session is really for me…most of it anyway. One year ago, today, I lived through the most humbling, miracle-filled, terrifying, bizarre, twenty-four hours of my life. I’ve written some of what I recall about that day, but I don’t remember very much about the rest of January or February, so I’ll kick back on the couch and pick up the story in March.
By mid-month I felt almost normal. My energy, strength, and stamina had all returned. By early April, I felt mentally and emotionally okay about the whole ordeal. I mean it sucked, but I came home. By May, friends and family told me I was acting like myself. I felt great. Clean bill of health. But we’re all physical, emotional, and spiritual beings in a constant state of change to some degree, and major life events, like almost dying, tend to turn the dial up a notch. God made each one of us unique creatures with our own strengths and fears, our own desires and insecurities.
Everyone’s life is touched by traumatic events at some point…losing loved ones, divorces and bad relationships, accidents and medical emergencies. When those things happen, we often feel like we’re the only one who’s ever struggled through the turmoil, heartache, terror, or sorrow that now haunts our lives. We confide in loved ones or may search out people who have nursed those same wounds, whether physical or emotional, if for nothing more than kinship. The desire to understand and be understood can be overwhelming.
Our circumstances, personalities, past experiences (traumatic or not), all play a part in who we are and who we are becoming. Hopefully a better version of the person we were the day before. I certainly don’t hit that mark daily, but I try, and it makes me feel better to know I’m not alone in my frequent failure. Sorry, but it’s true. It makes me feel better knowing some of you screw up just as much as me.
Yesterday I realized one way I’ve changed as a writer, hopefully for the better. Although I poured my heart into Darkness Watches and Parasite, A Piper’s Song Collection is the first time I’ve stepped outside the proverbial mask and offered something much more personal than my first two novels. Here’s the thing though, I’m nervous and really want people to enjoy it, but it’s okay if they don’t. Because this one is for me. Now, whether that helps me or hurts me as a writer has yet to be determined, but it’s made me better as a person, so it’s a win.
Thanks for the love,