The irony of "Why I hide my truth."

It’s ironic that my essay, Why I hide my truth, posted today at The Sunlight Press. The irony is that yesterday, David and Goliath duked it out within me about that very thing–sharing my truth when I’m most vulnerable. Goliath fought to keep truth in; David fought for its freedom. I’ve been battling chronic health problems…

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Personal growth in a story I didn't want to tell.

In September 2016, when I realized my short-term disability leave was going to be long-term, I knew it was a gift from the universe and I couldn’t blow it again. The gift was time—time to finish the memoir I began over 15 years ago. When I started writing, I told the story of my son’s…

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I am a warrior.

Earlier this year, I wrote my four brothers an email with the specifics of the surgery I would be getting in May. I talk regularly on the phone with my parents and my sister, so those three already knew the particulars of the very intimate procedure. My brothers and I talk less frequently. I couldn’t bring myself to call each of them and go through the whole story four more times. Plus, they’re, you know – guys – and I’m, well – a prude – so I opted for electronic communication. 

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Acceptance. I’m working on it but not yet there.

I wrote so much last week, I think the writing center in my brain is fried. 

Not all of my writing appears on my blog, but between my regularly scheduled blog, a bonus blog, an op-ed, working on my memoir (here’s an earlier scene) and some pieces that I sent to online publications, I’ve been busy. And my brain is worn out.

I’ve worked on at least seven blog topics so far this week, but I can’t get any of them to gel. Here’s a few that I’ll have for you someday:

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    I’m open to the possibility. Are you?

    When I looked out of the living room window the other day, I saw that my climbing hydrangea had buds. “Michael!” I yelled to my husband who was in the yard. I ran outside and dragged him over to look. Upon closer inspection, we saw five clusters of buds about to explode into starbursts of tiny white flowers. I had waited five years for this.

    The next day, I was strolling around the back yard and again yelled to Michael to “come look!”  This time it was my yucca, a name that belies its stately spires of white flowers. In seven years, my yucca has graced me with this vision just once. As I pointed out to Michael the tall stalk rising up out of the scratchy foliage, I noticed two more blooms-to-be.

    There’s more. If you’re not a gardener, stay with me here. There’s a deeper meaning to my garden eureka moments. At least that’s what I choose to believe.

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    A prophecy came to me in the parking lot.

    Prophecy: Sun shining through clouds

    It was almost a year ago that I took a medical leave from my job. I expected to return to work in a month. Then the month became two months. Then three.

    At that point, I didn’t know if I was physically capable of returning to work. At the same time, I couldn’t imagine not working. Age 57 is not exactly an ideal time to drop out of the workforce. And retirement wasn’t on my horizon yet.

    Yet a nagging question bubbled at the edge of my consciousness: Do I really have the drive or the desire to go back to the rat race?

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