Thanks to everyone who has checked in on me. It’s been kind of a crazy couple weeks around here. I was really sick with an exhausting chest cold. Stink had his 10th birthday party. It was my birthday last week. Plus, I’m taking my mom to doctor appointments here and there, doing my volunteer work, trying to exercise and, oh yeah, my book.
I’ve made a final commitment to really push that sucker out. I won’t feel “done” until it’s done.
I suppose it’s taken a while to finish for a few reasons:
- I don’t want to go back to that dark place I was in which is often what happens when revisiting old wounds.
- I’ve had other things on my plate, like making actual money through little eBay sales here and there.
- I have wondered if I’m just being a narcissist writing this book. Is it therapy for me or is it really going to help someone?
All this has been floating through my mind, and sometimes even makes me feel a bit panicked, but I finally had an epiphany, and it goes like this:
I feel this story needs to get out. I feel I can help people. I also feel that I can always go “work” at some job that brings in a grand each month. I can always turn up the heat on eBay and make a little more on used clothing or flipping sale items from boutique stores.
But what is my passion? What makes my heart sing?
For me, it’s writing. It’s connection to others. It’s to let others know that they are not alone in their struggles and fears over their child’s tics.
And, where I’m most convicted (and where I feel peace about this being a two year book process because stories don’t unfold overnight) I want to show the restoration in the suffering.
Forgive me for always going back to my faith, but for me, it comes down to Jesus dying on a cross. What’s the point in all that suffering if he wasn’t going to rise again?
What is the point in suffering over tics if we aren’t going to rise over the pain it causes (or fear of pain) and see the true meaning behind it? The value in accepting what we can’t change? The value in changing what we can? The wisdom in knowing the difference? The glorious recognition that our souls are far more enriching and exciting than our outside appearances?
I don’t know about you, but had my son not been diagnosed with Tourette, I never would have been slammed so hard against the wall. I would never have had to feel the anguish and the pain and then do what all changemakers do: Make a choice to move ahead anyway.
I want all of you to know that your child’s tics SUCK. I get it. But there is more to the story. Don’t give up on Chapter 1. Let your child’s life be one of adventure and depth regardless of hurt and healing and restoration!
And perhaps, just perhaps, my book can be about that, too.