Cost vs Value

I have a $1,000. Ink pen. It’s blue. It was a gift. I rarely use it. I am afraid I am going to lose it, so I keep it tucked away in my purse. I have a lot of other pens. They are all multicolored and mostly gel ink. I love the way they write. I order them continuously and have .5 and .7 pen widths. I normally have a couple with me, some at the office and some at the house. I like the different colors. Using the same color ink makes everything equally important and somehow all equally unimportant.

What makes a pen cost 1,000? The material it is made of ? The weight of the pen in your hand? The ink is ink- just like the ink in a Bic disposable pen isn’t it?

Cost vs Value-

What something costs does not necessarily equate to how valuable it is.

There are things that costs very little that are incredibly valuable.

There are things that cost a lot that are not valued at all.

Value: the regard that something is held to deserve; the importance, worth, or usefulness of something.

Cost: an amount that has to be paid or spent to buy or obtain something.

I value it so I don’t use it?

This doesn’t make sense. Yet, when I think about the rest of my life there are other areas I see some of the same pattern. I buy new outfits or shoes and then “save” them. I wait until the very last minute possible to go to the bathroom.

I am afraid. Fear rules the deepest darkest edges of my person and often goes unrecognized. I am so very good at disguising it and justifying it that I don’t even recognize it most of the time. I want security. I want to feel ok. I want to feel safe. I keep things of value because in those times that I feel the very most unvalued I want to pull them out and remind myself that I have at least that value. I did something that warranted that valuable thing. I can prop myself up and at least wear something that is shiny and new when I feel so very old and worn out.

I am afraid. I am afraid to write. I am afraid to open up my heart and my lungs again to the world because it feels so very unnecessary and worthless. Why do it? Why open up-why get naked? Why try again to make a difference in the world in some way by telling people how you feel? It was not a path that I stayed on relatively long. I was disappointed. Doors opened, I thought I was on the right path- to be something- something shiny and new- but when things got too uncomfortable, I didn’t know what to do next and I ran as most humans do. I ran right back to what I knew was reasonably comfortable the oasis called “good enough”.

I don’t know if I am a “good” writer or not.

I don’t know if my voice will make a difference.

I sure as hell do not feel “called” to write like people describe.

I do know that my heart aches and this is a way that it seeks relief. It is a place that might heal something in me…or you.

Sometimes I just don’t feel much in there to put in here.

So I will just write some stories. Stories I remember. Things that might mean something later. Things I should remember- about things that might be meaningful. Someday. To somebody.

You'll find me here on Wednesdays and Sundays...probably... trying to be better than "good enough" at getting naked.