I feel like I lived my life on pause for a long time.
I was 18 when I decided I had to get away. Dropped out of high school. Joined the Navy. Went on a 6 month cruise that ended with me being in the Med when Kuwait was invaded. Got married. Started a family. Tried to do the college thing, but priorities got mixed up.
Somewhere in all that, I lost my desire to write. I lost my desire to dream. I got stuck.
I got stuck building a life and I think I forgot how to live one.
Two years ago, my youngest graduated high school. My oldest got married. My wife got a new career thanks to being fired.
Me. I think I had a mental or psychological breakdown. Of sorts.
I’d say midlife crisis, but I didn’t quite my job, buy a motorcycle and start doing really crazy things trying to hold on to my youth. Those who know me know I tend to act very
childish youthful anyway… so.
That’s when someone suggested that I write. It wasn’t that simple. More like a bit of encouragement they gave me when I took on a challenge they were doing.
So, I started to write.
I picked up blogging once again. I had tried several times in the past, but failed because I just couldn’t get it right. It was trite, it was stupid, it was… noise.
Thus started CYB. From there, it sprung into me just being me, but in word form. More columnist/blogger then anything. Then, taking advice again, I split R.Todd Writes off from Thoughts from the Front to separate my fiction from my non-fiction. I started a Facebook page to get all my posts off my personal page and to give myself a bit more of a professional feel to my work.
I now have several stories I am
procrastinating working on.
I went back to college.
Currently, I am set to earn my Associates at the end of fall and I have my sights set on my Master’s in English. That should be done somewhere in the next 8 years. Hopefully.
I started to dream again.
About becoming a published author. About becoming a professor (hence the Master’s degree). About doing more then just existing.
And not just figuratively speaking. In the last year, I have had more actual dreams that I can remember then I have had in the last 20 years.
I started living again.
I still struggle with getting caught up in just surviving. I still find myself spinning recklessly out of control. I still have issues with my emotions shutting me down. But, I also have a hand firmly grasped around my dreams, and this time, I’m not letting go.
Time to go and live life…
In response to The Daily Post's writing prompt: "Baggage Check."