It is Tuesday, therefore Slice-of-Life blogpost day, and I have started and discarded six posts– all unworthy. This is the seventh, and I am only willing to give it another try because insomnia has won. In my hard-fought battle to wring sleep out of the nighttime, I find myself awake. Again

Two weeks ago, this was not a problem. Two weeks ago, I didn’t worry much about the way my words would land with my audience. But two weeks ago I stood atop the epicenter of a private earthquake.

When I am in the flow of routine, I am fine.  Life is good. No worries.

When I venture into the non-bell driven rest of my life and sit down to write, the words feel like a pot of ink spilled across the page– just giant blobs of smeary darkness. It is also in that space that sleep evades me and questions plague me.

I don’t want it to be that way.

I don’t want that moment to continue to have power.

I don’t want to daily battle an army of insecurities.

I don’t want to write lies of sunshine, yet I don’t want black holes on paper to overshadow the flickers of light that are still there.

So, SOL Tuesday, I offer you one true sentence:

I will continue to kick until I finally manage to shed this suffocating blanket of victimization, and I truly hope it happens soon.