Oh hey, Bug

What’s a girl to do when her writing bug goes missing?  Well, if you’re this girl, and you haven’t had functional speech in some hours, sans writing bug, you will do a lot of growling, yelling, and making other noises of general dismay.  And when Mom says, “What’s wrong?” You’ll growl again, or if you’re lucky, you’ll shout “I DON’T KNOW!” at her.

You’ll leave your mom to eat in silence, unable to talk but unable to get it together to type to her either.  Poor Mom really gets the brunt of this…

Anyhow, never fear, as I have found the bug once again.  He must’ve been in the hotel room bed all the time, because that’s where I was when he popped up.

So here I am, in Portsmouth, Ohio.  I’ve been up since 5, and from 9-1 I gave a presentation in a ballroom, had lunch, sold books, signed books, and chatted.  Yes, I chatted.  Maybe more accurately, I tried to chat.  I kept finding myself wandering away when I got overwhelmed, but I did try.

And oh, can I tell you how awesome this trip has been?  Nevermind the fact that the Autism Project of Southern Ohio funded the last big chunk of my service dog.  You read that right.  My dog is funded in full.  Nevermind the fact that our hosts have spared no luxury for Mom and I.  Nevermind the hot tub that I vegged in this afternoon and nothing hurt… the appreciation and acceptance we’ve felt and the people we’ve met have been amazing.  From meeting a couple of people I’ve known online for ages to meeting brand new friends to just hanging out with Mom (when I’m not yelling at her…), it’s been so much more than I ever could have dreamed of.

Something struck me today.  As I was telling mom that people had messaged Wendy (the woman in charge of the Autism Project) to tell her that they enjoyed my presentation, she said, “Well, that must make you feel good.”  And it does.  Don’t get me wrong; I like praise as much as the next girl.  But being someone who for so many years had so little sense of self, sense of personhood… I absolutely relied on praise to tell me that I was good enough.  Until very recently, I obsessed over the comments on my blog, because without comments, I deemed a post “lame.”  But, and this is what I told Mom, “I don’t need accolades to feel good about myself.”

The fact is that, in God’s economy, I’ll never be good enough.  I can’t be perfect.  I need Jesus to do that for me.  Good thing for me, He already did, eh?

But there is something I can do, and that’s to be Lydia, the best Lydia I can be.  So, see, no offense, k?  But it’s not up to you when I’m good enough.  That’s my decision, and I’m taking ownership for it.

Now, if only I could take ownership for the nonverbal outbursts and for that darn bug that, inevitably, will run off again.

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