I'm really good at doing that.
Then something small will come along, and it's the lit piece of straw that sets off the entire bomb, blowing that smooth road all to hell. It usually blows up at those closest to me, and then at myself. Why am I not doing more? How am I not working harder on this project? When in reality, it's just the mess of stressful thoughts that have already been swirling around my mind for the last several weeks.
|My amazing family unit!|
This is a cycle that has gone on essentially since I was a child. Mixed in with the "normal" stress of puberty, body image issues, bullying, and classroom/home life, I also has the extra strain of numerous surgeries from a rare spinal birth defect. I won't begin to say I've fully recovered from those years of screaming tantrums and fights with my mom and dad that my sister often witnessed. But time does shade over them, and brings with it maturity and wisdom. And forgiveness. As an adult, my parents and sister and I have had numerous talks about those years and the pain and fury I felt and inflicted.
|Chemo me, circa summer 2008. I'm reading the YA novel "Carpe Diem."|
This battle, now six and a half years behind me, brought its own stresses, blow ups, and triumphs. In the last year or so - when I finally started really feeling strong in body, mind, and spirit, rather like that plucky 20-year-old version of myself- I began to dream of what I would do with my life.
The answer was so easy. Books. Books have been, from day one, something I've clung to, to see past the scary. Past the darkness in myself. I could see the goodness in characters, and if these characters were battling (and winning!) big, scary circumstances like I was, I could surely rise up and conquer whatever was in my way. The wall. The wall I hit every time I had a tantrum, a blow up, a fight with a loved one. On the other side of the wall, there were tears, but also hugs and reassurances of love.
Yesterday, I hit my wall with opening this store. I said a lot of things like "this just isn't worth it" and "I should just set this down, walk away" minus an expletive or five. I yelled at my husband, who took the brunt of it and then started helping me brainstorm. Who assured me that under no uncertain terms would I be able to let myself walk away. That this is important. The Neverending Bookshop is already a part of my life, and while large parts of it are currently in other people's hands, this bookstore feels like the culmination of what I've been working on throughout my life.
|World Book Night 2014 with friends.|