734 Days of Surrender

My son did a review of 2015 on Facebook and encouraged me to do the same. I was angry. For me this last year seemed of one defeat after another. Hardly a facet if my life this years was left in my control it seemed. I realized I could sum the year up in one word; surrender. It began in January with me having to surrender to my mother going into adult foster care, a thing I never thought I could willingly allow and lasted until December when I surrendered to the fate that seemed determined to have me start this blogg.

In between I lost a friend who moved without saying good-bye or leaving any way to get in touch. My job became more and more difficult as “corporate” changed both the way we did our job and the way scheduling was done. My boss, in whom I had trusted the difficulties of my family situation disappeared in April. So he was not available when I needed to get time off to deal with my mother’s situation. Finally, the beginning of August, I quit. I don’t feel particularly bad about being a jobless beggar. I work hard to take care of my family, especially, my severely autistic son. But I am new to living off of charity so completely as I do now. That was the biggest surrender of all in 2015.

It was, however, the most rewarding surrender too. I had forgotten how wonderful it can be to just be “Mom.” I feel like I finally have enough time to take care of my family and our home (though money remains a challenge.) I admit of all the crazy things I’ve done in my life, trying to pretend I can manage a job (outside the house) and take care of my family too, seems the most ridiculous.

That is why it should be no surprise that November found me questioning how much time I want to put in to trying to make money online. In looking into online writing jobs, I was overwhelmed. Just the time it took trying to weed out the good from the bad left me drained and doubtful. Most frustrating though was knowing that I was ready to start telling my own story and realizing, if I took a job for money, it would be another roadblock in my way. There was also my art and drawing, maybe that was the best compromise. Could I use drawings to tell my story instead of words? I asked God for help to decide.

A couple of days later I had as clear an answer as I could ask for, I fell down the basement stairs and broke my right shoulder. I was terrified when it happened that I would break my neck. In truth, I am amazed that except for scrapes and bruises the broken shoulder was the only damage. It makes it difficult to do almost everything. Being right-handed, I can’t draw. Cooking, cleaning, even feeding myself is challenging. But typing is really only a little slower. I had always used both hands when I type so my left is equally proficient. So the end of December, with plenty of time to think it all through as I lay flat on my back (the only almost comfortable position available), I knew it was time to surrender again.

For my resolution this year (and the next), I have challenged myself to see if I am capable of blogging everyday. It is a daunting challenge, but I am a firm believer in “you’ll never know until you try.” As well as the “If at first you don’t succeed, try try again.” So one way or another I have every belief I will eventually become the everyday writer that I dreamed to be when I was six. I look at this as much as a test of my creativity and writing ability as of my persistence and of faith.

However, 734 days is not one year but two years and a few days. This is for two reasons, this is the absolute limit of time I feel capable of indulging in my desire to tell my story, while knowing I may not earn a single dime from this endeavor. The second is that 734 days are my best guess at the time remaining before the dream I had of a metropolis buried by earthquake, landslide and volcanic eruption is most likely to come true.


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