I’m sitting in the bathtub, in lukewarm water. It is 9:30ish. I have been up for hours, pondering how to write something of eloquence to make it official, though not officially sure of what to say–or what I am doing.

I reach for my computer.

Ten years ago, after my first book was literally stolen away from me, I wrote something so authentic, from the core of my being, while laying in bed, feeling vulnerable and entirely too sorry for myself.

One question remains unanswered today, “Who am I if I am not doing something of significance?”

…

I am struggling. Trying to fill in a gap, a void, with something. Anything. Wanting to move on, move forward, move ahead.

It is a noble intention when one looks at it on the surface–making purpose out of my remaining years. Especially after significant loss.

Making sure his memory doesn’t wither away from existence, I decided to share the space with you. Truth is, if you know and love him, his life will never enter dormancy.

For months I’ve been putting the words in order and in place, to publish one day. This plan still remains.

A while back though, I noticed I went from solely grieving him–to grieving me.

Who am I?

Really?

Who is the girl that lives in dormancy underneath it all?

A few days ago, a question rose up from thin air, I wrote it down not to forget. I did not fully grasp the magnitude it would awaken in me, “When did I stop feeling I was enough?”

A few thousands words later, the question begins to answer itself on the pages.

It is the key to figuring out my distorted identity. The one stolen from the little girl, all those years ago, without her knowing any better.

…

The day I began meeting God at the table after Bill’s death, literally saved my life.

My hope is the same conclusion for this next inward journey.

I could do both.  But, blogging is an interesting creature. She releases just enough emotion, without going too deep.

Not fully engaging the depths necessary for lasting change.

So, this time here may be at a pause. It may be permanent.

My hope is this time away will result in a breakthrough, like the caterpillar transforming into a butterfly.

Love you.

Josie