Seeping, seeping, sleepy

       My thoughts have been getting pretty contemplative as of late, and usually when I begin to get intensely pensive it turns into apathy or despair for the ultimate bleakness of my troubles (meaning that I just realize how trivial my woes are and how pathetic I am for making such a big deal out of them, which brings an onslaught of self-loathing, very unhealthy, I'm aware...and working on it).  However, this time it's not like that, and I'm not really sure what my thoughts are, but they're meditative.  They are neither apathetic nor self-loathing, which is so strange beyond strange (if you only knew what usually went on in my flamboogled mind), and I feel strengthened by their long lingering.  (interjection:  I'm not too knowledgeable regarding the synapses of the brain that trigger or inhibit certain patterns of thought resulting in hormonal responses, so i'm aware, and honestly slightly overwhelmed and frightened by this unknown aspect, that what I may be experiencing could just be, you know, chemical stuff that I have little control over.  For the most part, I can only be very self-persuaded by the evidence in and of  myself, that what is happening is a result of growth and a deeper thankfulness for grace in my life.)

       That got awfully dilapidated in coherence, but the point is I'm becoming confident!  I don't mean confident in the sense of my appearance, (which is a whole other topic to be splayed, but not here, not now) but in the sense of my identity.  We are born with dreams big and small that are fostered or fettered by fears as we experience failures and and the obstacles to grasping our dreams.  There comes a point, which appears to arriving earlier and earlier as the generations pass, in which you decide whether or not to pursue your dream or to throw in the towel and just do whatever.  Or if you're like me, you abandon your dreams for a few years only to sort of poke your head back around them like an awkward person arriving solo to a big party, not knowing where to start or who to talk to first, you just head straight to the food and sort of linger.  No I've never done that...I just assume that's what that would look like.  Shoot, where was I going with this? Oh, right, identity.  Well, while most people throw in the towel of doing something they love because it just seems unattainable (usually turning to drugs, sex, alcohol, or something to distract them and keep them hooked), a small handful of ambitious little beggars find gold at the end of being refined by the fires of doubt, struggle, pain, and countless slaps in the face.  They channel their energy.  When something bad happens they clip it with mental shears, and the trimming looks bare, but in due time all that clipping pays off because the real stuff has room to bloom.  

This always happens when I write, I unconsciously turn into a motivational speaker for myself.  Anyway, I'm getting tired.   I'll have to continue this tomorrow. 

J.