Not sure if this blog will make sense to anyone but me…Hang with it, though. I think it all comes together near the end…
Last night, I couldn’t sleep.
I tossed and turned so much that I knew if I didn’t get up and go downstairs, April would never get any rest.
It was 2am.
I was festering and I knew it.
When I fester over something, it takes over if I allow it to.
What’s on my mind?
Success.
How people define success.
Right now, I’m trying to make it as a freelancer so I can continue to follow my dream of becoming a successful author.
Freelance work is drying up and I’m faced with not so great options on the full-time work front.
I’ve never been able to take a job and suffer through it.
I’ve tried. Twice in my early twenties. I quit both jobs after just nine days.
I took those jobs because I felt like it’s what was expected of me.
I was trying to fit a mold I wasn’t made for. It didn’t work.
Don’t get me wrong, my folks are extremely supportive of my writing and my mother loves the compilation of blogs I put into book format every year, but I often feel like I’m considered the lost, wandering daughter because I haven’t stuck with one job, climbed a corporate ladder or even always known what I wanted to do.
My parents love and support me, no question - they just don’t always understand my choices when it comes to work.
Success to me is about so much more than where I work or what I do for money.
I’m a free spirit. A dreamer.
April has been incredible during this transition period. She’s a dreamer too.
We know we have enough. We have each other.
All of that being said, I’m also a realist and realize if no more freelance work comes my way, I will need to take a full time job.
I like nice things; I want to have children.
Both require two incomes, at least for us.
I’m at an impasse, looking into a completely unknown future, afraid to walk through any door for fear it will be the wrong door.
All of these thoughts and feelings kept me up most of the night.
I hunted for jobs. For hours.
I needed a break.
I decided to distract myself and watched two and a half episodes of Lost, the show about people stranded on a deserted island after their plane crashes.
I’ve recently gotten into the series and am in the middle of Season One.
Halfway through episode six, my eyes started shutting. I hit PAUSE and went to bed.
This afternoon, I sat down at my computer to finish the episode.
The time stamp read:
19:13
Nineteen minutes. Thirteen Seconds.
I watched in disbelief as the scene unfolded.
I needed to hear this message at this exact moment.
More than coincidence was responsible.
Here’s how the scene unfolded:
Lock and Charlie are deep in the jungle, trying to find food for the group. Lock holds, in his pocket, Charlie’s drugs – what’s left of them. Charlie is an addict and Lock knows he’s going to have to beat his demons if he’s going to make it on the island. Charlie has begun to sweat and he wants his last hit. He’s begging for it.
As he does, Lock walks him over to a tree, points and says:
“What do you think is in that cocoon, Charlie?”
Frustrated, Charlie says:
“I, I don’t know. A butterfly, I guess?”
“No. It’s much more beautiful than that. It’s a moth cocoon. It’s ironic because butterflies get all the attention, but moths, moths they spin silk, they’re stronger, they’re faster…”
Charlie interrupts:
“That’s wonderful, but…”
Locke cuts him off. He points to the cocoon with his knife.
“You see this little hole? This moth is just about to emerge. It’s in there right now, it’s struggling, digging it’s way through the thick hide of the cocoon. Now…I could help it…take my knife, gently open the widening, and the moth would be free…but it would be too weak to survive. Struggle is nature’s way of strengthening.”
I hit stop.
Rewind.
Play.
I did it several times.
Dude. I’m a moth cocoon.
My struggles are not negative, rather my path to spinning silk.
I’m where I need to be, learning what I need to learn.
God has a plan.
I trust it.
I believe in dreamers.
Not all who wander are lost.

Original message from thewishfulwriter here…

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