I had an old computer that broke from my clumsy half assed misfortune. I sat down to do some work. Weeboobopbam!! It was done. Dead within moments. I couldn't even dive to save it.

                 It had viruses that was eating it alive but it was mine. That day I was sour with bitterness. I thought of every time I could have used my time wisely but instead I was too tired so I relaxed my brain and allowed it to be soiled with bad television or great television shows that sucked me into a 72 hour television binge. I would sit and wish I could create stories for shows and movies that were that incredible. My heart had shattered with that computer. Every attempt to be great was stored on it. The memories of college was lost yet a second time because this was the second secondhand computer to fail me. So my mood once again slipped into defeat.

                   "I'm not a writer. You can't call yourself a writer until you have published somethin, you know." I said this matter of factly. Doubt; there is something about how it looms over your head like an ominous cloud.

                  "Awe but you are a writer," my husband responded matching the same matter of fact tone I had used. "Your thesis. That's written and published, is it not?"

                  He knows how to deal with me. He had been here with me before when my natural pessimistic nature would rear her ugly head. He knew how to combat her better than I did. Like a child with a sling shot he aimed at the cloud of doubt and shot a mere muster-seed of positivity at my gloom and let hope rain down on my head. I smiled. He was just like that. A natural optimist that was raised by an even bigger optimist.

                 I thought about a conversation I had with one of my best friends.

                 “It's called provisions bestie. The lord gives them to you so that you can't prevent yourself from walking in your purpose to fulfill your destiny. Don't let anything deter you from your purpose. It doesn't matter what you don't have. Find a way to walk in your purpose."

                  Her words were like magic. She listed all her provisions and how it led her to do things she was supposed to do. Blatantly acknowledging that she is coasting along on faith alone and please believe she is where she always wanted to be. She looks to the future with stars and dreams in her eyes. She knows that she is the example that I need.

                  I wonder how she can do it? How can she tolerate my negativity after all these years and conversations? She openly stated once that she has been working on my pessimism for years. I remember thinking, 'Girl, bye! Get out of here with all that. I don't even know what you’re saying.' Feeling half insulted and jaded. But she has. She has always been great with shaking me up using faith to restore me to reality. I can do this and I have. She has even spoken to me about my purpose in life.

                   "Bestie, you know you’ve got a gift right? You speak life into others. You may not notice it but you do. I can tell you that you have done it for me and I wish that you could do it for yourself. It's prophetic really."

                    Knowing these things I still wonder where the doubt comes from in all of us. I won't blame the devil that's too easy. I will say, however, that it is the easy way out of the hard work it takes to pursue something for fear of hearing the words no; try harder, work harder, or try again.

                    A conversation with my older brother came to mind. I told him about how hard it was for me sometimes to complete things (I was afraid to start blogging for fear that I would stop). Naturally, I love pencil and paper (I'm retro and classic like that). I love a fresh sheet of paper, a new pencil or a really nice pen. However, a lot of my writings are on paper and are tedious to transfer onto a computer. It was lazy but goodness the extra work right? Not only that, I would lose pages of what I wrote often times and lose momentum while I was at it.

                  “Now that's just ridiculous, Ericka." He said this crisp and frank.

                   When speaking with him I always have to prepare myself because often time he didn't play the foolery and could cut straight through your jugular with his words; never meaning any harm all the while. My other siblings and I affectionately call him, 'The Terrible'.

                    “Damn that. You need to cut that mess out. We live in the computer age and you need to get with the times. C'mon son. Paper? You still using paper. You better use the notes in your phone or something. I do it all the time. Whatever it takes just get it done!"

                      So I have been doing just that. I have moped around for a summer sad about all types of crap. The list is endless but I am not going to stop. Luckily technology is too great. I am a writer, not because I am published but because I said I am. The power of the tongue is real, you are what you say and I am a writer because I am the words I speak and the actions I submit to. Even if it doesn't reach a single soul I will continue to write because it is therapeutic for me to share. Even if I don't publish a single word, I will continue to write because I just enjoy making up stories. If you are reading this I hope that it touches you. I don't have a computer but I write. The challenges I have are unlimited as we speak and I won't quit. I hope you don't either. Feel free to share your hopes and dreams with me as well in the comments and we will combat doubt together with positivity. Until next time dreamers.