A layer of dust covered me from head to toe. I had a sore on the back of my calf and on the side of my big toe from my boots not being tied correctly. My deodorant had started to wear off and I was done with the smell. I sat down on a jagged rock overlooking the desolate valley that had only managed to grow some shrubs along the dry creek bed and I couldn’t be happier as I ate my soggy sandwich.
It may seem weird to be so happy while feeling every muscle in my body screaming from the hike up the mountain but this is what I was working towards. I watched the clouds float across the horizon and admired my treasure trove of rocks as I rested. Geologists dream about being in the field mapping the geologic formations and staying away from the office. I wasn’t one yet and was doing field work for a class, but I totally fit that cliche.
Rocks weren’t the only treasure I collected. I had quite the trove of books as well. I love reading. I dream of owning a personal library in the mountains where gps leads people to someone else’s house. Writing was never a dream for me even though it came pretty naturally. I ended up in Honors English from 7th grade on through college but I didn’t enjoy it. I found it tedious work and not a compliment. I wanted the skill but I don’t need a feather in my cap for it.
I got married and then put my career on hold because I found an adventure that was way more important than becoming a geologist. I became a momma bear and wanted to pursue that feather. There was going to be time for my career after I captured every moment of their lives in my memory but it turns out that I can’t control my future. We ended up in an accident and I got mild traumatic brain injury that stole my memories and a good portion of my independence.
For years I worked really hard to regain everything I had lost. I refused to give in and accept the changes. At first I couldn’t read and that was unbearable. I had to lay in my room and stare at my walls day in and day out.
I hate beige by the way and ceilings should have art on them.
If I was going to lay there, I wanted to read at least but that skill was lost for a long time. My wonderful husband and children taught me how again so the dream of returning to the field burned hot. If determination would get me there, then I was going to do it.
Life isn’t that easy though.
Instead of getting stronger, I’ve been getting weaker. My memory of some parts of my life has come back from before the accident but when it comes to learning a new skill… I can’t retain it. When I realized that I shouldn’t try to get back into the field right away, I decided to try my hand at another profession until I healed enough to get back to my dream. The problem was that even after 6 months of memorizing and learning, I couldn’t retain it. If I went 2 or 3 days of not working on it, I lost everything.
It was soul crushing.
The last thing I want to do is be a drain. I want to bring something to the table even if it is meager, but I had to start reassessing what reality looked like for me now with my limitations.
During this very difficult time I was wrestling with God but I kept cycling over the same subjects over and over again. I had to come up with a way to remember what I had already learned once so I started taking detailed notes about my spiritual education. It was incredibly effective and my husband and I wanted to create something that our kids could use for their own relationship with God. It ballooned into a bunch of systems based off of our love of science and studying. After talking about it with friends and family, we were encouraged to make it available to others so they could benefit from the nuggets we found. If we can help others with our creations then we’re willing to do it.
One day a story came to me that was based on our experiences and my husband told me to write it. Two years later after I argued with him about it and tried desperately to run away from it, I finally broke down and wrote it. There wasn’t a part of me that wanted to write it because every page was hard. Not writing it didn’t seem to be an option either. Step by step it got done and doors started to be opened. I discovered that this story held real power to help people struggling with their health and their faith.
Writing wasn’t a dream of mine and I don’t recognize my writing any longer. It has changed so much since the accident. It’s hard to move forward at times because I feel like I’m learning to walk all over again. It’s a skill that I used to know and was really comfortable with but I have to start all over again. While there is so much uncertainty, it seems like it could be a powerful career that I should have really considered before. Stories can really help people think through their own story and decide on what character they want to be. Truthfully, writing is hard work and the pay off doesn’t come right away. There’s not a mountaintop where I get to eat surrounded by beauty waiting for me midway through. It seems that it will take a lot of perseverance to finally discover what it means to have done a good job. I’m not a stranger to perseverance though and will pursue what that means.
Recently I came up with a new story that has completely energized me. I am in the trenches with my first book and creating this platform so I haven’t had time to really work on it like I want to yet. I finally discovered an aspect of writing that has me excited and chomping at the bit to get started. Creating a world from scratch and discovering the characters who live there has been so much fun. I can’t wait to share it with you all.
While writing may not have been my dream, stories have always been a part of my identity. Becoming an author who creates a world that inspires the mind to dream about their own what-ifs is a fascinating idea. I may not be able to hike my mountains any more but I have created a mountain range filled with stories of its own. The views are epic and so it won’t matter if your sandwich is soggy. I’ll write it all from the safety of my chair but my blood will be pumping like I hiked it myself.
Would I rather climb those mountains and collect my rocks myself… you bet. Every day. I’ll keep working to get stronger but until it happens, I’ll climb the mountains I create.
If you want to see where that story begins, the first chapter of The Cost to Go Back is waiting for you here.
And if you want to follow along as the rest gets written, you’re welcome to join the list.
