Welcome to the World Baby Girl

I unabashedly steal my first blog title from a Fannie Flagg novel I’ve never read. Now, to give credit where credit is due, I have read Daisy Fay and the Miracle Man by the same author, and I absolutely loved it, so somehow I feel that the nod to Ms. Flagg is appropriate since…

The title expresses exactly how I feel about my new venture.

I’m not new to blogging. I blogged while I was stationed in Mufumbwe, Zambia (see staceyjean.blogspot.com) as a Peace Corps Rural Education Volunteer. After my accident, which is documented in said blog, I took a two year hiatus. I’m back now because though much of the initial healing has happened, I’m still often haunted by the I should haves, I wanted tos, I didn’t get tos, etc. I’ve allowed fear to dictate my actions. I was happy in Zambia. Fatigued, dirty, homesick, and occasionally lonely, yes, but I was happy. And in the middle of my walking through and in the happiness bubble, I was randomly struck by a passing vehicle. The arbitrary nature of the experience haunts me. If I can be run over by a truck in Sub-Sarahan Africa, why won’t I have a heart attack at the age of 30? Or have a brain aneurysm while writing this blog? Or pass out while sipping coffee at my local café? What stops this from happening? Nothing. And because I was so ill-prepared for the last accident, I am vigilant about watching for unexpected nightmare. This, as you can well imagine, is physically and emotionally exhausting.

For two years I have battled chronic anxiety. I have panic attacks at work, on the highway, and at church. I have a Xanax-bottle ready just in case. And I’m on some fun anti-depressant meds that at least help me get out of bed.

Recently, I had a guy ask me if I was worth driving 45 minutes to see.  I didn't respond.  My silent answer was 'No, I'm not.  I'm busted up and broken.  More of headache than a joy to be around."  Still, a part, a tiny part, of  myself revolted at such a notion.  I am worth the drive.  Maybe it's a different sort of drive; I'm worth the journey/the drive/the shift toward wholeness again.  I'm worth the effort.  Even when the effort sucks.

Why make this public? Making it public means that I own it. I finally accept this part of myself, which I have chosen in the past to see as a flaw, and now choose to see as a tool for contextualizing this experience as just part of the sum of my whole life journey. This accident simply allowed Baby Stacey, the terrified kid that I used to be, to show up again and now it is my job to let her grow up.

In the past two years I have seen myself as rather frail physically, emotionally, and spiritually. I have determined that this year, my 30th year, will be a year dedicated toward reclaiming and rebuilding my sense of self and sense of strength. How to do this? Well, since my body was broken first, then my faith, and then my spirit, I plan to work on rebuilding in exactly those three steps in four month increments. Do I plan to fix it all in one year? No. I’m not sure that ‘fixing’ is in order. Exploring, yes. Observing, yes. Reclaiming, definitely. Fixing is too mechanical and I’m not very good at anything mechanical. I’m much better at reimagining and in reimagining is creation. I’m creating space in my life for strength and serenity. The need to document is simply inherent in my process for reclamation and creation.

I’ll talk a bit more about who I am later. For now, I’ll simply state that I’m a graduate student in Rhetoric and Composition, which means I’m also very prone to self-editing. To have integrity to my own process, I choose for this blog to be edited for grammar only. I will write what I feel, what I think, and let it be.

Thank you for joining my journey.  To Life!