I was that girl that searched for the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. I was the girl that was sure if I wrote notes for God and left them by the shrubs that grew near my house he could pick them up. I believed I could travel to Space and I would discover where those aliens had been hiding. I was that girl that was always on a quest for more. I’m still that girl.

More has followed me, or rather, I have been in pursuit of more all my life. The idea of more is what has kept me going. When I was sick of high school I reassured myself with, life really begins after high school. When I was at a job I didn’t care for I knew it wasn’t everything, there is more. When my life abruptly changed and my world turned in on itself I hung on to the hope of more.

These last couple of years I thought I should settle down. To wash my hands of more. I’m getting older. It was time to put childish things behind me and move forward. Isn’t that what grownups do? I was never able to articulate what more was. I couldn’t hold it my hands. It just was and because I couldn’t define it, bring shape to it I thought it was best to put it to rest. I decided to get caught up in my routine, have a proper job, and do what grownups do. To believe that there’s more to my life than this week, more to my life than just now was something I held fast to. But it was getting me into trouble. All of this wanting and yearning hurt because it never seemed to go anywhere. I kept reaching dead end after dead end. So, I stopped.

I got tired as you know. I’ve been writing about it here, digging deeply, getting honest and having monster headaches. (I’m sad to say I have been cutting out sugar which really pisses me off. But when you think your head will split in two it’s time to pay attention.) Within the honesty ‘more’ has resurfaced, this nebulous thing I can’t touch but want. More.

I was unloading the dishwasher the other day, having an epiphany as the words meaning and more rolled around in my head….meaning, more, meaning, more…spinning until I couldn’t separate them. More is meaning and meaning is more. Dishes in hand I stood up straight and snapped to the conclusion that I don’t need to wait for anyone or anything to give me meaning, to tell me what is meaningful. I have the privilege, the will to make it so. If a certain part of my life holds meaning for me then it is meaningful. Because I deem it to be. What holds meaning for me brings me more.

I am an artist in my life, in my story. What I mean is that I can bring shape to my life and give it worth. I’ll feed it, chip away, create, and accept. I can place purpose and emphasis on whatever I’d like. There is a thread of more which began as a girl that continues to weave its way through my life and I anticipate that I will be tangled up in it for years to come and I’m better for it. I thought that if I ignored it, left it alone it would curb that restlessness I couldn’t shake. I was wrong. And I couldn’t be happier.

11 thoughts on “more

  1. Kate Coveny Hood

    This really rings true for me. I think I've found the most happiness in moments of really believing that I am the star of my own life. That mine is an interesting story. And thinking that I just can't wait to see what I'll do next.

  2. bernthis

    I have come to believe in me and that I am "more" and if others fail to see it there is nothing I can do about it. As long as I get up and create something that makes ME feel like "more' that is enough.

  3. Christy

    Yeah – you put a huge smile on my face Heidi! So happy for you.

    And, I just have to share – 'more' is Fiona's favorite word. More snacks. More walking. More bubbles. MORE MORE MORE! I hear it all day long, nonstop. Now, when I hear her say it, I'm sure I'll think of you, too! 🙂

  4. Intense Guy

    I think a small part of your "more" was actually, "more later on".

    So I'm glad you got "more" and "more later on" – that you survived the horrible crash and recovery and are now enjoying a simpler, "more".

  5. Anonymous

    Reading this has given me a feeling of relief. I felt calm wash over me at the idea of being an artist in my own life – being able to feed/chip away/create/accept..placing purpose & emphasis on whatever you want without having to wait for others to give meaning.
    It's just what I needed to read. Thank you!

  6. Linda Sue

    Meaning- that is the biggest question- when I look out into the universe, when I think of the population of individual humans like rain drops, who have come and gone on this planet, when I visit a dying friend- I just don't know- IS there meaning? Then I remember an old Mr. Natural comic book I had- Flakey Floont asks Mr. Natural in utter desperation and despair "What's it all mean???" Mr. Natural hops on his skate board and grumbles back "don't mean shit"…

  7. wander145

    Very well and it made me smile way to go it was an amazing piece of writing actually all of your writing is keep on typing

Comments are closed.