Sweet Dreams of the Sweet Spot

In going through the Blogosphere yesterday, I came across so many people engaging in National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo) and National Blog Posting Month (NaBloPoMo).  I attempted NaBloPoMo last year, but didn’t quite make it.  Knowing my limits, I decided not to push myself on either this year.

But seeing everyone going NaNuts reminded me of the turmoil over this past year.

Last year I was hitting my stride with the novel for which I’m now seeking an agent.  I was knee deep in the midst of a new depression.  I was hitting rock bottom.  I was finding new life.  I was trying to change mine.   Without knowing it, I was embarking on one of the most important years of my life to date.

Last night I had the weirdest set of dreams.  They involved me being addicted to drugs.  They involved me climbing, on my stomach, up a dangerous and windy incline.  They involved me changing myself before my eyes and, ultimately, being rewarded in the end.

I’d like to think that the two have something to do with one another.  I’d like to think that I’m on the cusp of that new changed self and rewarding ending I had last night.  I’m just not confident that I’m there yet.

In my dream, as I raked my belly across the asphalt up the incline, I struggled.  I watched others do it so easily, so fearlessly.  Yet, there I was, paying for every inch in fear…living every moment on the edge.  Across the ground I’d slide, higher than before, hoping that the next push would be the last.  And once it was, I wondered what the fuss was all about.

A year ago I was in a much different place…I was questioning my self worth.  I was giving in to the attacks coming at me from all angles.  I was moving at a snail’s pace up an asphalt incline, not knowing when I’d find the end. I wish that today I could say I’ve found that sweet spot.  But I haven’t.

All I know is this–I kept climbing.  I kept moving forward, as hard as it was, until the asphalt stopped sloping up and got a bit easier.  It took everything I had, but I made it, in my own time.  I draw strength from that version of myself.  Even in my dreams, I struggle. It makes me chuckle when I think about it.

But more than that, it makes me smile, because even if I struggle in my dreams, I always make it out alive.  I’m not quite to the other side of this portion of my path yet, but I’ll get there…one small sweet movement at a time.