I write. A lot. 

It is my life’s work that will likely not be shared with anyone until I leave this body. That’s ok. Better. Safer.

Over the years, I have shared bits and pieces. Small bits. Tiny pieces. Hand chosen by me. Pointed out and shared with an anxiety that should have kept me from sharing at all. This is my soul. These are my thoughts. This is me on paper. Read this part, right there and then kindly hand me my book back.

Even I don’t read it all. When I do sit down to know myself through the lense of past thoughts, I’m generally horrified. I think like that? I act like that? I talk like that?

Yes, yes I do.

That view of myself has spurred me to change my life by changing my thoughts more than once. Today, as I read from two and a half years ago, I learn a new lesson. 

It is possible to spend too much time digging through the muck. I have been allowing distraction from action with busy work. While relevant and necessary, I have taken it too far. I am using the digging as a path to avoid action. 

Oh Journal, lesson heard and thank you.



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