Edward had to go to work today, because he has a very important meeting tomorrow. He’s preparing his shop, moving equipment & cleaning out rooms… Lots of manual labor. Something I cannot help him with.
But before he left, we spent some time together. We decided to keep the television off & just talk… Our talking led to the discussion of Sincerely, Holly … which somehow led to me reading my old journals … which led to tears … and kisses. It was good.
I’ve always loved to write. It is truly my favorite thing to do in life, with the exception of kissing my husband.
So, I read. Edward was so cute, on the edge of his seat the entire time. Hearing about my childhood memories was fun for him. I hadn’t written more than 8 pages, but he wanted more… That’s me. Always starting the dream & never finishing it.
I have journals with YEARS between them. My horse diary was the very first one I ever wrote in. My father gave it to me on my 11th birthday & I cherished it so much. It’s chock-full off childhood memories. Then I have various journals that showcase my journey through college – now THAT is interesting reading, I must say. And finally, this beautiful emerald green journal, the one I read to Edward this morning. The pages have no lines & it’s wrapped with a long leather rope, feeling very vintage & very special. This is the journal I had planned on publishing & it happened to be the one my husband so desperately wanted to keep listening to.
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I have no idea how to BE a writer. All I can do is write. I write from my heart & yes, I’m serious about honing my craft. Making stories tighter & thoughts easier to understand… But I’m really beginning to see, not just from my husband, but from everyone – even though it’s not perfect, this hobby is honest, at times vulnerable & often, very powerful. I would have never believed if you had told me at 11 years old, people from all over the world will want to listen to this… these little journeys I’m going on & how I’m surviving them.. but it is what is happening & to be honest, I believe this is what I was made to do.
Not to be a writer, but to let you in.
That is very important to understand here, because writing – well, many people can do that. There are thousands of talented authors that I will never even be comparable to. But I do have one thing going for me, & it’s probably the reason you even read Sincerely, Holly… & that is my desire to be totally & at times, embarrassingly, honest.
My life is not easy. It’s actually very hard. I wake up every single morning in pain, the very bottom of my upper back digs into my body, where I believe the curve is getting worse & it makes me want to stay in bed & do nothing with my day, or even with my life.
My head is pounding & neck & shoulders are so stiff from all of the work they did the day before. And when I finally muster up the courage to get out of that soft, warm bed…My legs are freezing cold. The circulation in them is terrible & just with Edward’s touch, I feel instant relief, warmth. When I walk without my braces, my right foot drags on the ground – threatening to trip me with each step I take. And sometimes, I do fall… hurting my already aching body even more. But I refuse to use my crutches in the house, because they are not easy to walk with either. It’s actually easier to grab walls & doors, cabinets & couches… then lay down.
Laying down is the easiest part of my life, really. It’s the only place I feel comfortable. Sitting is not comfortable for me, in fact… I’d rather stand. My family & friends will testify to this, I have always sat on my leg when taking ANY seat. When I was younger I thought I would do this to give my torso more height, but now that I’m 31, I realize it was my body’s natural way of compensating for the fact that I have no tailbone, no support. But sitting on your weak leg for more than 5 minutes starts to make those circulation issues, even bigger… So, I stand.
This is the truth. And just a tiny part of it. This is who I am & what is my (& now Edward’s) reality. And I have written my entire life, because it was the only way I could process & deal with the emotional baggage of having this profound disability. It’s still the only way I can deal with it.
Edward heard my heart today & he cried. Not because he was sad for my situation, but because he was so proud of who I have become. He kissed me over & over again, with tears streaming down his face.
All of that love, just because I wrote… & let him in.
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So I find myself here again. Writing, processing… Not so much to encourage you, but to encourage myself. I can’t help my husband today with what he is facing, but I have to believe my writing helps him in ways I will never even know. All I can do, is all I can do.
Lifting, kneeling & climbing is what he’s doing right now… I can’t help him with that. But instead of becoming discouraged, instead of beating myself up because I’m not a tall, strong, resilient wife who can go into his shop & help move things around & get them in order… I am choosing joy & choosing to let you in.
I’m also reminding myself that I helped him before he even left. I gave him my heart. And that sometimes is more lasting, than one afternoon of lifting.