Today I used a quote as a writing prompt, simply writing whatever flew off the ends of my fingertips in response.

I wrote this short essay in five minutes and maybe two more, to bring it to conclusion.

It was written in #5for5BrainDump style and I am thrilled to announce our next #5for5BrainDump session has been scheduled to begin June 18. Come back tomorrow for a link to the free sign up page. (Woeful mailing list issues).

Now, wisdom from Carolyn Myss, a different child-like version of me and a surprisingly… well, just me-me.

“Do you really want to look back on your life and see how wonderful it could have been had you not been afraid to live in?”
Caroline Myss

This quote hits me like a shocking slap to the face.

Ouch. Sting. I reach for my face – my heart shaped scar, the tears that want to pour out but stay continually stuck. Frozen.

I do not want to look back on my life and see fear everywhere.

I have stopped saying the word “want” as much as possible.

My aim is to look back and be satisfied, even with the fear-filled moments.

There is a little how do I describe her – a little contrarian Julie sitting on my right shoulder who wants to defend me. “Do you know what Julie has been through? She deserves to be afraid. She has earned a holy fear. Seriously, do you know her stories?”

I want to shush her, it’s embarrassing, and I remember Adam, my twice-time counselor saying something similar. “Give yourself a break, Julie” and I look back into my memory and say. “But Adam, I am still here. I am still here.”

I am thrilled to look back at my life in ten years and say. “This is that time when I transformed. This is the time when I chose differently.” (I wanted to say ‘finally’ and I controlled myself.)

All of the fear mongering experiences have served me, strangely, in adding a more compassionate side and gaining multitudes of life. I continually learn about self-forgiveness and compassion. I could have a PhD (at least) in patience.

I’m a grief expert, and my shortcomings – not wanting to create more strife or have confrontations or let go – these are areas I recognize and continue to work on.

When I look back at my life, I see purple. I smell lavender and juniper and surprisingly moist soil and last year’s leaves. I hear birds– familiar and not-so-much, pencils scratching on paper, and I see smiles slowly breaking across faces and eyes crinkling up. I see tears: of awe and bitter sadness.

A quiet voice inside just said. “and you did your best.”

That earlier contrarian Julie is in disagreement.

I am choosing to let go of the frustrated nihilist child and am willing to nod in agreement.  I’m willing to receive the assessment, “I did my best.”