Let me tell you how I won the battle against my fingers.
But let me preface with my current situation. Right now I'm on vacation with my family; this year, for the very first time, that includes my mom and dad. This is my first summer vacation without my sister, Morgan, since...ever.
Yes, I have let myself have a few pity parties. I'm sorry about it. But not really, because I just miss her.
Well, Hurricane Debby decided to make an appearance at the start of our vacation; torrential rain, winds that had palm trees on the x-axis, rain, small bodies of water, rain, 200% humidity, and rain ensued. I'm not kidding.
But you know what my sweetest dad did? He scheduled massages for all three of us to make up for days lost on the beach. He's the best, I tell you.
And as I was laying on the table, curls going in 17 directions and with a thin layer of sand still on my body from the beach that morning, I fell into this trance. From the first minute of that massage (which was the best I've ever had, by the way), I could literally feel endorphins releasing. Or maybe those were all the toxins running, screaming as they were pushed forcefully out of my muscles. But I'm pretty sure they were endorphins. Because all of a sudden I couldn't stop thinking about this darn blog. I've been fighting it for so long, mostly because it's been too long since I last wrote. I hate starting and not finishing things, or just not following through with them the way I think I should. I'm a perfectionist. It's a blessing and a curse--a blessing for obvious reasons and a curse because I get frustrated when I don't do things the "right" way and end up just avoiding them. Well that fixes the problem...not.
So I'm laying on the table, soaked in oils and the most relaxed I've been since never and this. stupid. blog. won't get out of my head.
Fight it, Sarah Beth. Write. Who cares that you haven't written in 167 weeks? Who cares that you couldn't possibly cram the past two months (okay...so maybe it's only been 8 weeks) into one post? Or even 10? Just write.
SHUT UP. I get it...
And then there's today. I was sitting on the beach, reading a solid classic novel with the sun beating down on my body--oh, there is nothing better--when I got this whiff of cinnamon. Maybe a hint of brown sugar, too. Whatever it was, it took me back to my childhood and all of the mornings my mom would fix cinnamon toast for breakfast. I have this thing with smells--I remember them and connect them to moments for the rest of my life. So, naturally, the cinnamon (which was, in reality, probably some 4-year-old opening a pack of teddy grahams five feet left of me) made me a little nostalgic. And I started going back in time a little and thinking of old, good memories. So the blog came back to me. Because it's an old, good memory to me right now. (ha! I laughed as I wrote that, and I don't know why. probably because that's a little sad)
And that's when I won the battle against my fingers. Because those two moments brought about in me a resolve--a resolve to write. My life is confusing and sporadic and spread out and exciting (and, consequently, a little stressful) at this point, but that doesn't mean I can't write about it. Or about anything. That means I should write, because maybe it would keep me sane.
So here it is. I win. I win. And I'm not making any promises, so don't create any expectations. But I will write. I will write even if I go nine days without writing. I will write even when I feel like I have nothing to say. Because who always has something to say? (well...some people do. and it's not always a good thing) I will fight my fingers every day if I have to, because I know that my thoughts are much, much bigger. And they will win.