The End of the Beginning
It’s finally the end of the beginning. I think in my past life I was a professional starter for a football team. Not heroically or triumphantly, but in the sense that I wandered the earth searching for purpose allowing people and background noise to influence every decision I ever made. I had the habit of starting tasks, projects, businesses even then lacking follow through because of fear. Fear not only of disappointment but also of rejection. The remains of childhood trauma and pain I never understood, separation anxiety seeping into my daily life.
I’ve started this blog more times than I can count, a different name, a different color pallet, aesthetic, etc. but I could never bring myself to be courageous enough to share my story, my truth. As a writer, a pen is like a blood vessel, it is vital to the flow of our being, and yet I couldn’t bring myself to release myself from false perceptions of my upbringing and the loneliness I felt growing up as a marginalized group. I would set a date in my mind that I would do better, that I would finally take a leap of faith and pursue my true passion and creative calling, but what if that day never came? We oftentimes take life for granted, not realizing that no day is promised and if COVID has taught us anything, it has taught us to live in the moment and embrace even the smallest of wins as they contribute to a humbler state of mind that allows us to be grateful and realize how powerful we are as human beings.
When is the last time you dreamt? And no, I’m not referring to a state of consciousness in which the body is in a slumber, but when was the last time you dreamt with your eyes open? I keep promising that I’d get back to my destiny, but the journey back to it hasn’t been easy, just being honest. It was easy to leave my dreams, ambitions, and goals behind, but the journey back was treacherous as if I were walking in quicksand or wading in water because I hadn’t stretched beyond my reach for so long. If you’ve ever worked out then you know that the longer you go without stretching or walking, the harder it is to run. But then you get to a place where you wake up with the realization that you may run out of time, that your biological clock is ticking and that you are unfulfilled, as you search for the person you were and return to the moment before you threw in the towel, you realize that not only are you being tested, your endurance is too. I should've apologized in advance for all the metaphors and figurative language, but I am a writer, and this is intentional.
I used to hear people talk about purpose and success as though there were never any trials or tribulations and while I was to be motivated, I was sad. I wasn’t rich enough to solve my problems with money, but wealth is in the mind, your purpose is your currency. I stopped writing for years, I threw away my work, I said I would never look back, I don’t believe in having regrets. And yet, I missed writing. I cried when I realized how much I needed it, the ability to articulate my thoughts in a safe space where I wasn’t conditioned to compete with others or pretend to be okay, that euphoria wasn’t in any form of currency or vacation, the euphoria was what I felt when connected to my purpose. Everything wasn’t perfect and I won't dare lie to you and pretend, but the more I wrote the further I was from my feelings of anxiety, depression, and suicide ideation.
I found my voice and this time; I refuse to give it away. My gifts cultivated or spiritual are mine and it is up to me, to you to decide the trajectory of your life and find power in purpose. So don’t let this be a meaningless end, you’ve survived too much. Let this be the end of the beginning as you realize you are powerful enough to keep going day by day. You may have suffered some tragedy and experienced some trauma but remember that you survived it although you thought that you wouldn’t because you are awesome and tenacious.
Peace and blessings,