March 1 has loomed large in front of me like a dark, ominous cloud. For the last five years I have eagerly anticipated the start of the Slice of Life Story Challenge. The thought of writing, and sharing that writing with others, filled me with nervous excitement. And when I reached the end of the month having accomplished what I set out to do, I felt enormous satisfaction.
But not this year. This year, I have felt a sense of dread. I'm not sure I can do it. Not this year. I don't have the time or the energy. I don't want to be constrained by the rigid structure of narrative to tell my life's story. It's been so long since I have written, I don't know if I can even string together coherent thoughts anymore. Even if I can, I am not sure if anyone will want to read them.
There are so many reasons not to be here.
And yet I am.
For as loud as the voice has been shouting at me all the reasons why I shouldn't, there has been a small voice at the back, quietly urging, Do it.
I don't want to, the louder voice shouted back.
That's exactly why you should, came the response.
So I begin again, not sure that I will be able to make it through the month, not sure that the right words will materialize when I need them to. Such is life, I suppose. We never know what lies ahead or if we'll have the strength to meet the challenges that inevitably arise along the way.
But onward we go.