HeatMarie

This writing will be incongruous in many ways, almost laughable. You will say, “Heather, really?” and while you roll your eyes, I will nod my head and say, “Yes, but listen…and listen carefully.” 

I followed the trend of motivational posts. I hope that by shoving it down the throat of the frail you won’t have time to smack away my helping hand. I’ll be too quick. Maybe? Hopefully. After all, it is my goal to force your hand to grasp onto mine without a second thought, so I can pull you back up to where I believe you belong. You will suck in every word I write and for a moment, if only a fleeting moment, you will smile with a thought that says, “I got this” then walk away with the strength to carry the day. 

But what happens when I fail? What happens when your hand slips from mine, and for heaven sake, you choke on the words before I finish them? Perhaps, you’ve read too much of all the good things… and in that moment you’re thinking that there is no hope. So you sit and question why you can’t be more like these people who never have a bad day. Who never cry, never skip a workout. Who are always on a linear path to achieve success after success. Now all you want to know is why you can’t be like that. What is so wrong with you? 

Well, doesn’t that just defeat the post’s purpose? How am I supposed to inspire you if I have no faults and I am happy, always? How do I inspire someone who has bad days, when I myself have none. Not anymore, anyway. 

    The answer is simple; we are all human and this is a lie. 

After writing Killing the Angel I felt as though I cured myself of a writer’s disease. I pushed through the boundaries, tore down the mortared walls that for so long kept me in my “rightful” place. I was proud and ready to run headfirst into my next writing believing there would be no doubt. No more voice inside my head telling me that I am not good enough. For that moment I was on top of the world. I finished my glass of wine, told myself I would do a quick edit in the morning, and went to bed. 

The next day, I presented my story to a class. Their emotions stirred and I was moved by the tears of a girl. I did my job as a writer. I had awoken feelings in others. Therefore, I can call myself a writer. 

Then the professor looked at me. She asked, “Does that mean that the angel is gone forever?” 

Shit.

I stared at her speechless. My heart collapsed and shattered to pieces. My face grew red and hot and I could feel the fire burning away all that I had achieved. It was like being told that the monsters that kept me awake at night are real and they will come back every single night. They, or she, will always follow me. No matter where I go. She is in the background somewhere deep in the pit that I buried her in and she wont stay there long. 

I understood then that I would have to continue the fight. I didn’t want to say it out loud. Not just because I did not want to bring my thought to life but because in doing so, I was going to crush the heart of at least one person in that room; a person who thought;“This can be me. If she can do it; so can I.” 

So I wanted them to go on believing in this fantasy world. This fantasy that as long as you believe in yourself, and you believe in the good, then there will be no bad. You fought, you won, it’s one and done. My darling, one and done. 

I believed the lie of happiness without strife would allow people the faith to achieve their dreams. And maybe, just maybe, if they believe in it they will succeed. So let’s not break dreams. 

How it saddens me, the harsh blunt facts. It was one night, and one night only that I silenced the angel in the house. 

I scrolled through motivational posts. Instead of feeling inspired, I questioned what was wrong with me. Why is it that no matter what I do I always fall into some rutt that takes me back to square one? Then I remembered what happened after writing Killing the Angel. The realization that I will always have bad days: days when I for some reason can’t write, or I question the quality of my writing (because lets me be real; it can’t all be amazing), days where I am lethargic and cannot find the energy to run, days when I am just sad for no reason, and days when all I want to do is indulge in an entire bag of Dove chocolates.

I will overwork myself to exhaustion then wonder why my body gave up on me. I have done this so many times. I am not the person who learns the first time around. But I eventually take the time to analyze my failures. That my friends, is where true success starts.

 We will not grow if we do not understand our failures or if we sit blindly behind them pretending they do not exist. Your bad days happen and they happen for a reason. They are your lessons. We all have limitations; don’t be ashamed of them. Grow from them. We can all improve ourselves. When you stop realizing that, life will be static and you will never find your true potential.    

It’s all too easy to forget where we started and easier to lose sight of the road that is taking us to where we want to go in life. That doesn’t mean we are any less than those who have it all together. As they guide you to a better you and everything about them seems perfect; remember, time and time again, they too have failed, struggled, and got lost along the way. No person is perfect. No road is paved in the straight line to success. And when we accept that we will struggle, and we understand that is how we grow, then we can be fine with who we are. Take the time to remember where you started, where you are at, and envision where you want to go. Remember you are not alone. 

Embrace your failures, cherish your faults, and the fog will lift once you find your way.