To write....Or to exercise...? That is the question.

Whenever I think of writing my head is flooded with memories of high school English class. Writing always seemed like such a daunting task. A task that I would avoid until the very last possible moment, making every imaginable excuse to procrastinate, before I gave in. Even now I think it a task and most times an overwhelming one. Why do I do it? Because it is good for me. Just like exercising, it's good for me but difficult to find the motivation to start. Most people who know me wouldn't believe me if I stood up in church and confessed of my dread because I've written two books (with two others outlined) have a couple of blogs, up to date on my journals, and am dedicated to writing my step-son at least one letter a week while he serves a mission for our church...But dread I do. Just like the treadmill. I don't really want to but I do it. A number of times a week I ask myself, "What am I going to say? What do people want to hear from me? Is this story even relevant? Will my writing impact others for the better. Will anyone even read what I write?" Or, "I'm too tired. I don't feel like it. I do it tomorrow." Blah. Blah. Blah. Sound familiar anyone? Some people are natural born writers. I am a story telling. AND THESE TWO THINGS ARE DIFFERENT. (Although, I will admit that a captivating writer also needs to be a good story teller.) Yet no matter what I think of writing,(or exercising)I'm drawn to it. When I begin, it takes me a little time to warm up. Then there are moments when there is discomfort and pain or even boredom as I compulsively look at the clock. Before I know it, time has slipped away and I am finished with what I had wanted to do(writing or exercising). AND when I'm finished I feel a sense of accomplishment. Sometimes relief or even cleansed with a renewed personal energy. I never regret doing it. I do it because it is good for me. I do it because there is a chance that the results will benefit others as it benefits me. I do it because even if it's difficult, it's what I'm supposed to do. Okay, I'm off to do four miles.

My sister got me thinking...

So over the past month my sister has been going through a number of tests to check for cancer. Now this isn't knew for her because she does it every year ever since she went into remission for Hodgkin's lymphoma some 10 years ago. It's not uncommon for the tests to show "something" and they do more tests but this time it was different. This time there was "something" and after a biopsy it was confirmed...she had breast cancer. She didn't really tell anyone after the first test. She said she didn't want to get anyone excited about something that might not be anything. After it was confirmed to be something, she told a few, like her children and called one sister who told the others (that's how it works in our family) and then we wrote her emails and messages on facebook so not to overwhelm her or ask her the same questions that she's had to answer over and over again to everyone else (that too is how it works) but to let her know that we supported and loved her.
It made me wonder why we do that. Why don't we tell those we are closest to when we are worried, struggling, or grieving. Do we not tell others because we don't want them to know what we're feeling...not want extra attention regarding our plight...not want to risk others rejecting us or not validating us and our concerns? "What if they ask how I'm doing? What will I tell them? Will I break down in cry? Will I yell how angry I am at the situation? Will I pretend that everything is okay with me? Will they be able to comfort me?" The questions we might ask ourselves could go on and on. And then when we know someone who is struggling with any number of life's possibilities why don't we reach out to that someone? "What if they cry? What if they get angry? What if they pretend everything is okay? Will I be able to comfort them?"
When and since my first husband died I've had many opportunities to be the one who shared of my struggles and to be the one who inquired of others who were struggling themselves. I've also had many opportunities that I have allowed to be missed. Although being on either side can be awkward and even intimidating, I can dare say that I have never regretted letting another in to my world or being invited into theirs.