Keep On Keepin On

I've been doing a bit of reflecting of late, and realize just how much growth there's been for me this past year. Not just for me, but for the book. This year the book went from concept to paper to being read to being edited. It's not that there's nothing left to do; there's plenty left to do. But the growth I've had this year gives me a sense of urgency for getting the book finished and published and out there into the world.

I keep having this dream (even when they suck, I hate to call them nightmares) that I get the book published and no one buys it. Or that two people buy it and they both tell me it's crap. Or that five people buy it and they form a group to come TP my house because they expected more out of me. I hide inside while I see rolls of toilet paper flying hither and thither, and people from the neighborhood join in on the egg throwing and the toilet paper tossing while my dog looks at me in contempt and refuses to protect me. Dreams are stupid. At least the ones I refuse to call nightmares are.

I know this is just fear of working for years on a project that doesn't relate to anyone. And I know this fear is unfounded. Everyone I've handed the book to has been touched. The greatest compliment I got from handing the book out to my cast of feedbackers was that most of them cried. It's not that I was trying to make anyone cry; I just told my story. And while my story is written around the cancer that took my father from me, the basis was the relationship between my father and I. I guess the story's not for everyone, but I've realized that I'm not really writing it for anyone else; I'm writing it for me.

Without this book and the last three years of writing it, I might not have ever learned a thing from my father's death but that he's not coming back. By reflecting, by writing, I've been able to connect with me. Who I was then, who I am now, and who I'm on my way to becoming. I've learned more about myself in this past year or four than I have in the my thirty years prior. I've been able to connect with myself in a way I never knew existed, let alone thought was possible. I guess that connection is what people relate to, not the details of my story.

We're all human. We all feel. We all have relationships, whether they work for us or not. Those relationships all need tending to. And at some point all of those relationships will cease to exist, whether we like to admit it or not. By change, by circumstance, by accident, by death. I want to create as much learning, as much healing as I can in the relationships that haven't yet ceased to exist.

I guess I'm still trying to figure it all out.

In the meantime, I'll just keep writing.

What about you?