How about a taste of my own medicine?

This post started as something else. Then something monumental and life-changing happened. Or, more accurately, I committed to something very difficult. The existing version seemed silly. It was erased. Emotional or emotionless nonsense followed. So here I am, sitting in front of this post one more time.

My intention with this blog is to share advice I have been asked for, opinions I have developed, and tidbits I have experienced. What I have recently gone through is not a tidbit. It cannot be shared in one neat entry. With this in mind, I will try and avoid trivial details. Instead, I will attempt to explain my mental process. Exorcise a few of my many demons.

Spontaneity. Adventures. Conversations. Trust.

Slowly...
Over years...
These things have slipped away...

There were discussions. Improvements followed. Then declines.
Fights.
Discussions.
Improvements.
Declines.
Fights.
Discussions.
Improvements.
Declines.
Fights.

The background rhythm to my life...
and the beat goes on...
and so does my life...
and new melodies play over this rhythm...
relationships mature...
jobs change...
friendships bloom...
babies are born...
and still this sickening rhythm goes on...

But the melodies change the priorities of the song of my life and a truly improved rhythm is required. One that is not in constant tension with the wonderful possibilities of my song.

It is my song.
It is ultimately my responsibility to change the beat.
I can no longer look to others for that change.
It comes from within.
It is true that factors affect the nature of the rhythm but the extent of the impact is in my hands.

I have had to ask tough questions:
What role have I played in creating this rhythm?
How often have I danced along?
How often have I allowed my melodies to be influenced by the pattern of this beat?

I do not like the answers. I have not liked my song. Some of the melodies are beautiful and harmonious. Too many have been allowed to become dissonant.

I wake up to a disappointingly familiar low point in the rhythm. It is not the worst but it is enough. The song is broken. My song is broken. It cannot continue as it is. There is no anger. There is no joy. There is only despair. It sounds like breaking glass.

The rhythm is stopped. The melodies continue. The beat of necessity is used to prop them up and allow the song to limp along.

The hope... and there is hope... is that the beat can be changed. Helped. Healed. Cycles broken. Hearts mended.

The fear... and there is fear... is that the beat will be allowed to end. No effort. Just pain.

The solace... and there is solace... is that families never end. They can change, rearrange, but they never truly end.

And there is love...

Love.

LOVE.

And it is worthy of the hardest work...
and I will work...
and I hope I am joined in the work...

Hope.

HOPE...

For the new. For the possibilities. For the promises.

For the love.