Passion

In my early thirties, I felt this persistent low-grade sadness.   I wanted to be the kind of person that feels so deeply about something that I'd be willing to wait in a line all night; sleep outside, in the rain, just to get in.  That to me was passion, or at least insanity, which at that point seemed better than where I was. I just didn't feel that. Not for anyone or anything.  I felt a little jealous of people who did.  To have something that drove you to such lengths... maybe they got what life was about.

My existence had a particular robotic numbness.  I went to work, came home and ate dinner.  I spent time with my family, but there was nothing that was just for me.  There was nothing that I felt passionate about that had nothing to do with my husband or my children.  It’s the path of least resistance to lose yourself in someone you love.

The emptiness was completely unexpected.  I was more than a little pissed.  I followed all the rules:  graduated from college, got a job, got married, had kids and bought a house.  No one tells you that there could still be something missing.

As if that realization wasn't a enough, it seemed like everyone else got it.  You know these people, they've known since they were three that they wanted to be a ________________ .  Assholes.  

I know when it seems like everyone else has their shit figured out and you don’t, that’s bull, but you still want to hit them over the head with a 2 x 4.

I found it, though. The vibrant color.  The crisp sound.  What I’d been looking for was always there, in my writing.

Still, it hasn't been easy.  I volley between bliss and terror on a daily basis; sometimes I make a complete revolution around the crazy inside of 10 minutes. 

Since I've started writing, everything looks like art.  I can see the beauty in Imperfection, but  I’m a lot more emotional and sensitive – prone to tears. That the absolute worst.  Bottom was when I found myself crying over a commercial for the movie Step Up 17: Step up to the Curb (that dancing - now that's passion!).

Inspiration comes at the most inconvenient times, characters sometime scream at me from inside my head, but it’s just right.  It’s my real life; the volume is turned up one hundred percent. 

If you haven’t yet found the thing(s) you were meant to do while you’re here, I hope it happens soon.  

When it comes, let it in. Let it take you where you need to go.