Ruffled, rattled, and flustered from my own hand, mind, and heart today, I unravel the twisted puzzle. Meeting with my mastermind group, my monthly favorite confidantes to discuss and share goals, offer advice, inspire, and lend a listening, loyal ear, I share the success of my healthy lifestyle, staying true to my path, and the commitment to transform and heal the inner brokenness that remains shattered. Shards of brokenness shadow my journey, yet await mending and a cleansed spirit.

Yet today discussion about my first memoir resurfaces, the completion of first draft submitted for perusal a year ago. Engaged immediately in the second draft writing process after meeting with my editor then, just as suddenly, as if a line had crisscrossed along my heart, I stalled abruptly. My stamina halted, momentum waned, and the process met paralysis while I attempted to retrieve and edit what once shined, relinquish the energy for completion that lay deep in despair and dormant along the pages of my book.

My editor’s response about forgiveness for my past within the memoir, he claimed was incredulous. Yet although I am certain forgiveness has transpired, what piece of my story lacked integrity. What lay beneath the pages that lacked synchronization with the rest of the tale? To revisit my memoir, my life, my past would have delved further beneath the surface than I was willing to travel.

Yet one, I shall return to retrieve the ashes I lay, burned into my writing, word upon word, layer upon layer, for a later visit. My timing first necessitates full healing, a knowing that I have arrived at self-acceptance, self-worth, and self-love. When that clock ticks of “a knowing,” I shall retrieve and share my story and tell its completion, a conclusion of healing, arrival, and peace. Until then, I remain patient until a knowing comes.