My new year’s blog posts have varied over the years. Sometimes I’ve listed out my goals or my writing plan. Sometimes I’ve told you an area I need breakthrough. This year I decided to choose a one-word theme for my year.
And that one-word theme is:
Last year in my new year’s post, I said that I was hoping for breakthrough in the area of identity. I thought I knew how that would look. I assumed by the end of the year, I’d be all zen, content and self-assured.
But that’s not what happened. In 2018, old passions and dreams resurfaced. I was given opportunities I hadn’t had in years. It should have made me feel renewed. Revived.
It left me restless. Desperate. Discontent.
I ended 2018 more frustrated than I’ve been in years. Last week, I turned 41. I honestly don’t know how that happened. Yesterday I was 21, dreaming of one day being on Broadway and then when I aged out of that, I’d spend the rest of my life writing bestselling novels. And today I’m 41, wondering what I’ve done with my last twenty years.
It’s not like I’ve been sitting on my ass. I raised two children. I’ve written around 40 novels. I’ve sang professionally. I’ve spoken at schools and churches and women’s groups. I’ve impacted people’s lives both online, in reader’s groups, at signings and one-on-one. I’ve done a lot locally. I’m proud of what I’ve accomplished.
But it’s not what I thought I’d do. It’s not what I’m capable of.
If you’ve followed me a long time, you might think this is all about the downfall of the writing market and how drastically that affected my life. And I do think it contributes to this feeling. The financial hit my family has taken, is rough. Trust me. But honestly, this goes deeper than that.
I sacrificed a lot to raise my children. I put my life on hold. And I don’t regret it. My kids are my hearts. My loves. I’m so proud of them.
But somewhere along the line, I lost me.
I lost years when I could have been pursuing the things I wanted out of life. Now the world is open to me once again. My kids are grown. Living their own lives. And my fear is that it’s too late for me. That I’ll never be all the things I wanted to be. That I’ll never accomplish my lifelong dreams and goals.
The definition of fulfillment is:
the achievement of something desired, promised, or predicted.or:2. satisfaction or happiness as a result of fully developing one’s abilities or character.
Truth is, I don’t believe my dreams are dead.
It wasn’t a coincidence that the year I ask for breakthrough in the area of identity is the year God reminded me of what I’m good at. I’ve had more opportunities to lead this year. More opportunities to sing. To act. I think these opportunities were reminders.
I’m creative. A leader. Smart. Musical. Artistic. A writer. A lover of people. Compassionate. Kind.
This is who I am. It’s who I was created to be.
I’m also flighty. Unorganized. At times incredibly selfish and self-involved. Overly talkative. A little ditzy. Klutzy. Can’t do math to save my life.
I’m very aware of how not perfect I am. I know what I’m not good at.
But this year, I’m focusing on what I am good at. I’m focusing on fulfillment.
So, here I come 2019. Watch out.
I’m done sitting on the sidelines. Time is moving fast and I’m making up for lost time. This year, I will write more, push myself more, put myself out there. I’ll sing more, lead more, advocate for myself more, prove myself more. I’ll act more, I’ll study more, I’ll hone my craft.
So…I may not sleep. ha ha!
But I can guarantee next year’s post will sound a whole lot different than this one.
What are you hoping for in the new year? Comment below.