When Frank McCourt wrote Angela’s Ashes he was 66. It took him until 66 to write what was a humorous memoir with enough distance and perspective so that it did not read like the tragic horror it actually was in so many places. He told that horror with grace and humour. It happily has not taken me until age 66 to find enough perspective to either do the clinical work I believe so much in or start to write about both these topics and my own experiential take on them through the lens of my own life.
But it still took 4 years.
It has as my trainer and friend Dean Somerset said today “been a process.” A hard one. A muddled in the muck one. Where I didn’t know if I was going to survive. (Divorce in fact does not kill you.) Let alone be able to share any kind of wisdom or perspective beyond what I am clinically trained to do.
I got lots of questions. I mean lots about why I wasn’t writing yet. Doing the big thing. Being creative. I didn’t know what the big thing was. I was just trying to survive and not second guess every last decision I had made and not kill me, the kids or the dog by accident.
You need time. This self awareness. The changes you make. They need time.
Some days you are just gonna survive and not kill anyone by accident.
Other days you can write a full memoir with grace and perspective.
That timeline is yours.
the steps big or small are yours.
The path and purpose you are creating. Yep. Yours too.
It took me four years to get here. And I am still figuring it out. I have just figured it out enough to write about it.
Don’t let anyone rush you through your experience or tell you when it is time to do anything.
You aren’t too old or too late. You are right on time. Your time.
