One moment in time...

“Give me one moment in time, when I am racing with destiny ...”

I love that line. It captures the hunger to be all that you can be – the desire to go all the way, to feel like you are at least for that one moment, fulfilling your purpose of existence. I am yet to feel that way. I have this overwhelming need to be whatever I can be but somewhere somehow I hold myself back from immersing myself in the pursuit of that dream.

I can make any number of excuses. The kids. My husband. The house. A million routine chores that leave me deadened to inspiration. Lack of exposure. I have not led an interesting life, what could I possibly have to write that anyone would want to read? But then that’s not the point. I want to write despite all that is holding me back. My worst enemy never came from outside. Its always been myself. Everyone I know tells me I can write. Everyone I respect tells me I waste my potential by not writing that longed-for book. Why do I appear to self-sabotage myself each time I attempt to pen down the words then? I don’t know.

People have given me various ideas. Many friends tell me I have to write for a certain amount of time everyday regardless of mood or creative inspiration. Others tell me I have read too many good books and beat myself up unnecessarily for not being perfect. Yet others like my husband tell me I am merely making excuses and there was absolutely no reason I couldn’t write a book in three months. I listen and feel frustrated. I imagine that there’s this wall around me that I cannot get through. I feel choked with the bitter bile of failure before even an attempt at success. Why? Again, I don’t know.

My brother has a theory. He says there is something painful inside me that if I do not write about, I will not get over the block. To avoid writing about it, I stop myself from writing at all is what he believes. His other point was that it did not matter if my story wasn’t new or appeared to be boring or uninteresting since it was not the story as much as how I told it that would make a difference. He might be right. Some things you cannot write about and yet if you don’t you aren’t being true to yourself at all. Perhaps I have kept a part of me locked up that needs to be let out.

Whatever be the reason, I long for that one moment in time when I am more than I ever thought I could be...