The Struggle is real

The thing about blogging is that once you hit publish…your words are out there. Yes, you can always hit delete but the truth is you, what you’ve done is unleash a part of yourself on the world, that was not seen before. No matter how many posts you delete…you cannot take that back.

I had a conversation with a close friend last night about this blog. First things first…I didn’t know that he was reading it. Secondly, the minute he said he was reading my blog, I felt that little flutter of panic rising inside me.

He was reading my blog!!!

All my insecurities started having a party in my tummy. I was exposed. I know I write for someone to read…but it still scares the crap out of me when I realize that oh hell…someone is reading!

Interestingly, he said reading my blog and knowing me…he sees the careful mask I have created. He is right. There are parts of my story that I’ve started writing and I get so scared of what I’m revealing about myself I never finish. During my mother’s battle with Ovarian Cancer, I kept a journal and while I hope one day to turn that into some kind of resource for care-givers…I just cannot bring myself to read it to the end yet. Far less to begin the process of writing it.

I try my best to keep things real in this space…because it is mine…but this space scares me too. I know that allowing myself to be really seen, to be witnessed by you, to share all my pain…while it will eventually allow for healing…I will be walking through fire to get there.

A Cherokee elder sitting with his grandchildren told them, “In every life there is a terrible fight – a fight between two wolves. One is evil: he is fear, anger, envy, jealousy, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment and deceit. The other is good; joy, serenity, love, hope, kindness, humility, confidence, generosity, truth, compassion and faith.’ A child asked, “Grandfather, which wolf will win?” The elder looked him in the eye and replied, “The one you feed.”

That Cherokee story is one of my favourites because I have been feeding both wolves. Deep inside anger and resentment and sadness wars with joy and hope and compassion.

But the wolves in my heart have joined the gremlin on my back. Yes, I’m a regular menagerie of phantoms…don’t get me started on the dragon in my head. At the risk of aging myself…do you remember the movie Gremlins? Do you also remember the most important rule in Gizmo’s care was to never, ever feed him after mid-night? My gremlin…she – yes it’s a she – relishes the mid-night snack of insomniac thoughts that plague my mind, shooting down my ideas, sabotaging my plans, mirroring my deepest fears in impossible scenarios, playing them over and over in my sleep-deprived mind. The wolves and the gremlin work in tandem I realize.

We all have them, but some of you know these wolves by a different name. Some of you name them…some of them already have names. But, whatever form the beast takes, that is the one we use to hurt ourselves and those closest to us.

The good news is that we choose who wins the war. The words, “the one you feed” are quite deep. We choose which wolf to feed. We choose to give the gremlin chicken after mid-night. We can choose not to feed them. Don’t feed the animals…simple right? Not without God’s help.

We pray: Give us this day our daily bread. And while some of us take this to mean literal bread…it does give a whole new meaning to feeding the wolves. Which wolf are you feeding? And how?

In my case, with my masks firmly in place feeding time gets trickier. How do I feed the good wolf with all the things it enjoys? How do I sate its mammoth appetite for all things wholesome? I feed it everyday. Some days I feed it a lot, some days a little.

Today I share with you my struggle.