I post here occasionally. Sometimes, my posts are long and sometimes they are not. What you do not know is that this is the least of my writing.

I routinely write to myself. Yes, to myself. The last decade has seen me through huge life changes. I understood early on that I needed to remind myself of a lot of things, especially those I had just remembered after years of forgetting. So, I write to myself. It’s a great opportunity for me to clear the cobwebs and record a moment in time. It is also a great advantage when I need to find my center again. It’s very easy for me to lose track because I no longer have the same constraints as most adults. In many ways, I am free like a child. Except, I am not because I wasn’t always like this, and I have accumulated responsibilities.

I also routinely write to my therapist. I am not good at sharing my feelings or anything that might make me emotional, so I write. I write everything I want to share with him, everything I think he should know, and everything that’s bothering me in any way. Most of the time, they are just rants, I’m sure. 

Recently, I have been writing to a man who has come to mean something to me. Yesterday, I sent him 4 words. They might be the last I ever send. They are certainly not the last I have ever written him. I don’t send him everything I write for him, and I will probably not send what I wrote since. I have written him more pages than my bachelor’s thesis. That’s a lot. Ironically, he is only privy to a quarter of it, maybe. Like I said, “I am not good at sharing my feelings or anything that might make me emotional.” (Note: I have indeed sent him more words after this was published, and I plan to continue doing so indefinitely.)

Regardless, the point is, when you write you can go back and remember easily. I did that yesterday. I went back and read a book I wrote a year ago. I laughed, cried, remembered. I remembered every reference that was only alluded to, and remembered every moment, good and bad. I remembered how I feel about some things, and I reminded myself of who I am intrinsically in many ways. I also reminded myself of my deepest values, the ones fear has been pushing aside. 

I am not that girl. I am not a give-in or give-up kind of girl. I was never the girl fear kept on the sidelines. I certainly have been crushed more than once because of my unwillingness and inability to quit. So, I will not quit. I will not back down. I will not give in or give up. I will persevere and perseverate. 

Why perseverate? Because sometimes one is prompted into action only to desist when motivation wanes. We have all lived through it. I have lived past it. There have often been times when there was no wind and no chance of a second wind, and yet I sailed on. Why? Because it matters. Because failure is not an option; it’s a requirement, and victory belongs only to those who are willing to fight against unattainable odds. It has been mine in the past and it will be mine again.

I hope you persevere, and perseverate. Tell anyone who will nay-say you to go mind their own business (edited) because this is your life and you are the only who has to live it. 

Good luck!