“When people ask, “What do you do?” I say, “Whatever it takes.” Unknown

In 2008, I did whatever it took to check off boxes toward my writing career like being published in a national magazine. Professionally, it paid off. 

Three newspapers ran my column about daytrips and other attractions in Upstate South Carolina. An editor asked me to write for her glossy magazine highlighting upscale homes in that same area. This Old House featured my nearly 100-year-old home in their monthly magazine. 

I wrote hundreds of articles for dozens of publications. One blog post ended up on a well-known national site. Another story won an award from Jerry B. Jenkins, coauthor of the Left Behind series. 

I nearly killed myself researching and writing 15 hours a day to submit articles to blogs, magazines, newspapers, and book collections. Some of my work got published. Just as much of it didn’t, but no one could say I didn’t try hard.  

Writing looked different from all the other ways I tried hard to get better, but it was the same hamster wheel I’d always been on.  Although I didn’t recognize it at the time, I set every single outside goal as a means to feel better inside.

Parenting didn’t do it for me because, as good as my kids were, they weren’t perfect. Just when I got one of them to act like I wanted, the other one didn’t. 

Teaching elementary school didn’t do it because I wanted to be voted “teacher of the year” when I couldn’t even get teacher of the month. 

Being wife and daughter of the year weren’t happening since I struggled daily in both of those roles.  

All I really wanted was to be out of pain. To find some relief. To feel better. 

I related to friends who shared posts on social media including Bible verses, quotes, and promises about feeling better in hopes that it’d actually happen. 

I related to friends who hoped that by talking or posting one more time about their loss, the ache would ease up a bit. 

I related to friends who hoped the right relationship, residence, or rank would pull them out of their funk and make life okay again.  

I related to friends who lost hope for even hoping. 

If you’re dying to get better, I hope you know you’re in the right place. I also hope you’ll hang around, leave a comment, and join our conversation.   

In This Together,
Kim