freshly painted pink walls up ahead // journal entry

yes—it’s me. the girl that publishes her journal entries to her blog like it’s normal behavior.

here you’ll find a few small thoughts i scribbled into my journal this morning while embracing my first cup of coffee. i hope some piece of this give you hope—or maybe it will gives you a “hey, me too.” moment. that’s all i could ever want. //

sunday, january 20, 2019.

it’s 2019. the year i declared i’d work really hard yet i often find myself staring at my freshly painted pink wall feeling unmotivated and honestly, lethargic. (little side note, i just sighed and thought, “hey, this does kind of feel good. you know, journaling.)

the thought of breaking my gaze with my pink wall to actually go create something is terrifying. why? i don’t know. failure? fear of finding it boring? sometimes i can’t help but feel violently unequipped for life. like everyone got the jump on me. when ironically, people probably think the same about me.

i find myself wishing for more hours in a day; when in reality, if i didn’t spend eight out of twenty-four of those precious hours attempting to coax myself into doing something, maybe i wouldn’t feel that way. i guess all of this journaling, praying and rambling is me trying to work up the courage to admit yeah, i’m a bit discouraged. not because i’ve failed but more so because i look up at the mountain of dreams i’ve dreamt up and can’t help but let out the loudest sigh of my life—i’m suddenly and crippling aware of what it takes to chase those dreams and how long it’ll take to get to that mountain top.

but, what else do i have to do with my one and precious life? stare at my freshly painted pink wall?

i’ve always found a lot of courage by reminding myself i’m a dreamer—never once thinking a dream is too big or believing there is such thing as too many dreams. but lately, being a “dreamer” doesn’t have the same ring to it as it used to have in my instagram bio back in 2012. (really led me astray, john lennon.) nonetheless, i will forever remind myself that even curses can simply be blessings in disguise. maybe being a dreamer with pink walls isn’t so bad—by the grace of Jesus it’s gotten me here this far.