Once upon a time, there was a tiny baby, born to unusual circumstances. She grew into a little girl who thought that Life was Good.
Then Life turned on her and showed her its vicious side. It didn’t mean to, but was irrevocably altered by the experiences of those who went before the girl, and had no choice, no chance, but to take her and break her and try to destroy her. She escaped into books and into her own mind.
But the girl had a secret, a heavenly Father, who in her darkest hours would not let her embark too far along the road to self-destruction, and she hated Him for it, but gradually, the struggles of life were challenged and vanquished as she discovered a talent for writing. Unsure at first, and uncertain, but buoyed by people who cared, she practiced and honed and gradually began to emerge from her shell.
She grew up and worked hard and somewhere, the writing got lost once things were back to ‘normal’ (whatever that was) and she wished and prayed for someone to come and make her life complete. She thought deeply about things and grew into her roles as good friend, good aunty, good sister, without really realising how important it was to be a good SELF *to* herself first and foremost.
She found a someone, but unfortunately they turned out to be a million times the wrong someone, and they were nearly parted by death at their own hands after a series of disasters (which would have shaken the most stable couple in the world) turned them on each other, and on themselves.
Throughout those years of hell, she had enjoyed the love and support of friends both online and off, who helped her to understand that she could use her hurts to help – the taboos she faced, the unique position she was in, the struggles she’d encountered – could all be used for good and to connect with others who faced similar issues, and to give something back.
So she (metaphorically speaking) put on her finest armour, picked up her pen and began to write. She wrote to fight ignorance and engender compassion. She wrote to break taboo and engage the unknowing. She wrote to share her story and lend comfort to those who walked her path. She took daring steps to acknowledge the deep-seated and long-hidden fact she had rainbows at her centre, and eventually came out publicly as gay, with her family’s support and love, and was delighted to receive only love and encouragement from her friends.
These days she’s mostly a mess and a mixture, living as happily as possible, writing poetry, and whatever else takes her fancy. She is long-distance-looked-after and encouraged by her utterly marvellous BlogWife, and her darling 1000Mile Heart. She’s gradually beginning to think about the rest of life.
For now she is content to flirt a little, to hold impossible crushes, to wish she could fix the world with writing, and to hope that she and her Precious will retire as little old book ladies together, so that neither ever has to end up alone.
She tries to focus on the Good, and take everyone with her in realising that (in a way) experience is what we make it; that life can be lived in Silver Linings, that Love Wins, that people are stronger together, and are likely infinitely better if they can muster the courage to #BeReal and show compassion to one another.
She still thinks life is mostly, on the whole, Good, but that each of us can embetter it for ourselves and each other.
She is the Considerer; a bit of a tomboy princess, a committed glitterbomber, and a total goofball. Her soul, distilled in pixels and sent to you through the magic of the Blogosphere, is yours to read. Enjoy.
Not only so, but we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us. – Romans 5: 3-5