You can always tell when a writer is struggling. They stop writing. Oh, I have been scribbling madly with a pen in my journal, but I have been mute when I open my computer. Being a writer requires vulnerability. Maybe we cannot see the faces of those that read our work, but our very lives and emotions and experience hang on our sleeves and enter the void for judgment upon typing. But a writer must write. It is what makes a writer such. Sanity hinges on her fingertips. Privacy is a foreign word.
It is not easy out there. I have come up with so many every hair brained schemes and personas to go with them to make income to scrape by over the years that I have simply lost track of who I am. I thought that hard times helped to shape and reinvent oneself, but now I understand that hard times are meant to reveal oneself. A very different state indeed.
So convoluted have my personas become that I cannot see, so stressed about finances that I cannot hear the wind rustle the trees around me. So afraid of loss that I bury myself in worry. And so comes the great reveal.
I love plants, from growing to preparing foods and medicines, to wine making to hiking through woods. I love them all. But I despise doing shows and farmer’s markets. Anything tedious I dislike. I cannot sit through mass any easier than I can perform a long, drawn out spell. My church is watching an owl fly by overlooking a pond. I love being home and cooking amazing meals and listening to Andrea Bocceli and gardening, my hands deep in the soil. But I hate cleaning my house and desperately want to hire someone else to do it. I love sharing the magic of plants, from wine making to herbal remedies with friends. But I hate teaching. I love walking through the woods and being enchanted and writing. I hate being so broke that I cannot afford a bag of soil for the garden.
My apothecary has never been able to support two people, let alone three. And so Doug and I are searching for jobs. Hopefully jobs we love will come up. I will assist Shyanne at the shop but she will be the recipient of income and eventually the shop. Our life is about to change again. Perhaps through this reveal we will find the place where we can just be. We work, we live, we love, we travel when we can, we are our true selves.
I go by many names, but in the end I am just Katie Lynn.