Finding My Voice Again
Here I am, nearly 43 years old. A man whose health leaves much to be desired. Still unmarried. Still without a stable livelihood. A college dropout who has spent an inordinate amount of time in front of the computer doing “God’s work”, but still has nothing concrete to show for it even after all these years. In other words, a certified failure.
But am I really? A failure? I guess it all depends on the kind of standard we use to define the word. And so, yes, materially speaking, I am a failure. But spiritually speaking? I’m letting God be the judge of that, because frankly, I don’t feel much like a success in that department either. Only time can tell if any of the good works that I’d done in the past will bring forth good fruits in the future.
Like I said in the home page of this blog, I’m starting anew with FreedomWriter.net, so I won’t do much remembering. Besides, because of the sufferings I’ve experienced these past few years, I’m a much different person now. A person that I still don’t know much about, to be honest, because I’ve not been writing for quite some time — just kept things bottled inside. And just kept my eyes on that far horizon, doing the things that I must, waiting for my circumstances to change.
So that I can dream again.
Oh Lord, how I miss writing! How I miss speaking my mind in written words!
I used to have big dreams about being a writer, especially about being a writer for God. And I know that I have the gift for it. But I found out the hard way that no one cares about my dreams as much as I do — not even those who were supposed to stand by my side. I also found out the hard way that talent breeds jealousy.
Ever experienced having your life forever derailed by someone who has authority over you, because of jealousy? I do. And it still hurts even after all this time. I should be a pastor now and leading my own congregation, but I am not. I should be married now and raising my own family, but I am not. And I should be a successful blogger now — an influencer in the very best sense of the word! — but I am not.
Life happened. Shit happened. And I fell down. Hard.
It didn’t happen right away, but I felt them slowly slipping away. My passion for writing. And my writing voice.
A dry spell. Some people call it. But the reality is harsher. I was simply too wounded, and my creativity was suffocated. I lost my passion, and I lost my voice. That is the simple hard truth.
But who is this man talking now? Who is this man with this confident voice that I hear? It sure is not the man I was before. But I sure will be glad to know him more.
FreedomWriter.net, as it stands now, represents my greatest hopes and dreams as a writer. This isn’t just a blog to me — this is my life’s work! And I will fight for it, and I will do everything that is necessary, so that my hopes and dreams can finally come true.
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