In Between Life Sizes

August 29, 2018

It’s hard to resurrect a writing “career” when your other career and roles get in the way. And a cold. Yes, one of those nice late summer/early fall colds. Those are super special.

Anyway, my absence here hasn’t been negligence. It’s been coughing, and full-time jobbing, and parenting, and wife-ing that has delayed me writing. Plus, even for someone who enjoy writing, the work itself can take some time. Especially with the INFJ battles that go on in my head when trying to start a new entry, be creative, and yet also keep an eye on the goals and end result. That gets a little noisy (if there are any pure, unadulterated INFJs reading this, you totally get what I’m saying).

Anyway, the goal was to write at least once a week. I clearly knocked it out of the park failed to meet that goal already. Plus side: It’s all uphill from here??

But just because I haven’t been back to the writing routine doesn’t mean I haven’t been thinking about the things that I feel, see, hear, and experience. And one thing that has been on my mind since I wrote this post revolves around a message or two I received about being “in between life sizes.” One message asked me more about its meaning, another expressed his resonance with the concept, and yet another wanted to know  more… just because. And I get it. I mean, how does one not fit into their own life? It makes no sense. The life we have is the life we have, right?

Warning- this may seem like a religious post. It’s not actually. It’s just my story, so you non-religious readers bear with me. Also thanks for being here- perhaps one day we can chat about how I really feel about religion these days.

Years ago, I was told by a trusted advisor that at some point in our lives we reach a space where most of us find ourselves looking back over our years with a need to justify the decisions we made. It’s sort of an existential thing. We mature, realize that life is bigger than we thought it was, realize that life is fragile and there are more years behind us than we ever thought could happen, and suddenly we face a reckoning of sorts. It’s not regret. Maybe for some people it is, but not for me. It’s just more of a reflection. And for me, at this stage in my life, it’s more about trying to make sense of- or at least make friends with- the course my life has taken.

I will try to explain… Read the rest of this entry »

Why I Left

August 10, 2018

I haven’t written in a minute. A lotta minutes.

And yet every month, or maybe more than once a month, someone in my current circles- either in real life or social media- says “When will you write your book?” “When will you write again on your blog?” “I always loved reading what you write.”

I tell you this not because I need more ego strokes… forget it, let’s just be honest, I totally do. And so do you. Everyone stop and stroke some egos for a minute… that’s right… all good? Ok then, on we go.

To be completely real, however, I left writing for multiple reasons. Some of them are not clear enough to have words; they only exist in feelings right now. But I have managed to find a handful of words for some of the reasons- both good and bad- why I quit a couple years ago. Allow me to divulge:
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