LIFE (and Life Lessons) in Everything
Forgive me all, for I have slipped; it has been four months since my last blog post. That's what happens to a writer when focusing on finishing a book, or to someone who's been working too many hours at a job, or the person who's gone on vacation and managed to be on vacation - and even the person who finds herself so stressed out that she has to isolate (and yes, sometimes, hide). Sometimes it's all of the above, too. That's what happens to anyone when life happens; we slip a little, stop to regain our footing, and start again.
I've been writing an awful lot during these past four months - I know, not that you'd notice - and one of the reasons I haven't written anything here comes down to a number of awkward thought processes that writers go through regarding 'putting forth work'. I call them awkward because they are a blend of the reasonable and the unreasonable and have the power to hold a writer immobile in a sort of limbo.
Writing is work. A writer knows this, and part of that struggle is getting the people around them to understand how much work it really is. The difference between writing and my actual job is that I love this work, and I only like my actual job. If I have to give ridiculous hours to something I only like, then I push myself to give as much time to what I really love. I need to have a balance so that I don't feel like everything I do is solely for others; I also need to give what I love doing a comparable validation. So, for me, in some respects, there is no time for much else.
Writers have many insecurities. The first insecurity is always wondering if anything you write is good enough, worth writing down (then worth letting others read), and valid. Once you pass that with a 'Fuck it, I'm writing anyway' you find yourself wondering where it's going to go. Do I need to save that for my book? Can I put it in a blog and publish in a book later? And if I do that will I have 'given everything away' so that no one will read my book because they may have seen some of my blog? Does all this information and storytelling have a place together, or do I have to separate it? Why the hell do I feel compelled to write any of this down - and then show this to people? Then you circle back to that first insecurity the moment you let your baby go out into the world.
Which leads to the feelings of being a fraud; I have realized many things, I've come up with a great way of explaining things or of making a point, I've created something lovely -
Who in the hell is going to take me seriously when I'm such a hot mess?
I'm struggling right now, and have been for a long time. The bulk of it is in my job security (and I use that term loosely), which flows into resentment (sometimes anger), and heavily impacts my own self-esteem. Of course, then it impacts my financial stability (and I use that term loosely), which flows into resentment (sometimes anger), and heavily impacts my own self-esteem.
Throughout all of this, I've been learning a growing awareness inside of me that is all about the idea of being in the moment. I'm more aware of when I am and when I'm not, and I'm learning that my being in each moment can make the struggle a little less dire. Being aware and acknowledging that I'm here right here and now is also the biggest encouragement to continue to make sure I'm here, right now.
I also make it a point to pay attention to all the things I can do, and all the things I've managed to do despite all of the bullshit. I know, I know, we talk about that a lot when we are trying to encourage people to 'look at the bright side' - but there's more than a little truth to that, and it's effect can go so much further than we really think about.
Until we think about it.
In the interest of keeping myself sane, I work at celebrating the things I can do and the things I've been able to do. I went on vacation. I went on my 5th consecutive vacation. That is something I never thought I'd be doing, much less regularly. I am so very lucky - and I worked fucking hard for it, and I still am. I'm aware of all of the help and support I needed (and got) to be able to accomplish that (and help and support is not exclusive to the financial kind). I enjoyed myself.
I deserved it, too.
And it's not easy to maintain positive thought when you feel that things are falling apart around you - not even for me, Her Royal Highness, the crowned Fucking Cheerleader. When I'm aware of what's falling apart, I question whether doing something for myself (or having done something for myself) was the right thing to do, or if it wasn't the responsible thing to do. That begets the anger that comes with realizing you don't treat yourself as a priority - when you should be. And then there's the self-recrimination when you know that your 'problems' are surmountable. While I dislike the idea of comparisons, I can without the use of them know that my struggle is not as bad as it could be, and certainly not life-threatening - so what the hell am I complaining about?
Oh, I'm totally aware that my thought pattern is that of a seesaw.
But in those moments that I've been present - and aware of it - I see how many of life's answers come in the form of those little moments.
Analogies are life's wonderful little ways of showing us a small picture to help us understand the bigger picture. I've often referred to myself as the Queen of Analogies because I always seem to find them, and lately I'm seeing them a lot.
BFHD, right?
Well, to me, it is. I've come to believe the compulsions we have to express anything, in any way, are there for a reason. I believe creation is a two-part process; there is a compulsion in one person to express, and a matching reception in another. Yes, this is part of my gatherings of analogies that involve the coin that is not a coin unless both sides of it are there.
How will we know if a bear shits in the woods - I mean, if a tree falls?
Anyhoo, this is my compulsion, my reason, my expression. Denying it means having to deal with more stress - I can't explain why I feel the need to write, but I do, and if I don't let it out or act on it I make myself more miserable. There's a reason for everything, even if we don't know what it is. I'm trusting that and going with it.
At the very least, it makes the other shit easier to deal with.
If I figure out something that makes sense and I'm a mess when I figure it out, does that mean what I've figured out is wrong? Or am I wrong in putting it out there while I don't have my shit together? Do I need to look like an authority if I speak? Which is more important, the message or the messenger? Does any of it matter? We learn more when we mess up; why should we hold it in until we are 'better'? It's not really like my first purpose is for anyone else other than myself, and if what I say strikes a chord with anyone else that's just gravy, right? And if I'm writing for myself first, because I feel this need to, then the only person I have to worry about taking me seriously is me.
(Let's just take a moment to breathe here.)
Prepare for the analogies. "Life in ..." (from a hot mess). Don't worry; I'll probably only flood your feed for a short time, then disappear for another few months. I have books to write.
I've been writing an awful lot during these past four months - I know, not that you'd notice - and one of the reasons I haven't written anything here comes down to a number of awkward thought processes that writers go through regarding 'putting forth work'. I call them awkward because they are a blend of the reasonable and the unreasonable and have the power to hold a writer immobile in a sort of limbo.
Writing is work. A writer knows this, and part of that struggle is getting the people around them to understand how much work it really is. The difference between writing and my actual job is that I love this work, and I only like my actual job. If I have to give ridiculous hours to something I only like, then I push myself to give as much time to what I really love. I need to have a balance so that I don't feel like everything I do is solely for others; I also need to give what I love doing a comparable validation. So, for me, in some respects, there is no time for much else.
Writers have many insecurities. The first insecurity is always wondering if anything you write is good enough, worth writing down (then worth letting others read), and valid. Once you pass that with a 'Fuck it, I'm writing anyway' you find yourself wondering where it's going to go. Do I need to save that for my book? Can I put it in a blog and publish in a book later? And if I do that will I have 'given everything away' so that no one will read my book because they may have seen some of my blog? Does all this information and storytelling have a place together, or do I have to separate it? Why the hell do I feel compelled to write any of this down - and then show this to people? Then you circle back to that first insecurity the moment you let your baby go out into the world.
Which leads to the feelings of being a fraud; I have realized many things, I've come up with a great way of explaining things or of making a point, I've created something lovely -
Who in the hell is going to take me seriously when I'm such a hot mess?
I'm struggling right now, and have been for a long time. The bulk of it is in my job security (and I use that term loosely), which flows into resentment (sometimes anger), and heavily impacts my own self-esteem. Of course, then it impacts my financial stability (and I use that term loosely), which flows into resentment (sometimes anger), and heavily impacts my own self-esteem.
Throughout all of this, I've been learning a growing awareness inside of me that is all about the idea of being in the moment. I'm more aware of when I am and when I'm not, and I'm learning that my being in each moment can make the struggle a little less dire. Being aware and acknowledging that I'm here right here and now is also the biggest encouragement to continue to make sure I'm here, right now.
I also make it a point to pay attention to all the things I can do, and all the things I've managed to do despite all of the bullshit. I know, I know, we talk about that a lot when we are trying to encourage people to 'look at the bright side' - but there's more than a little truth to that, and it's effect can go so much further than we really think about.
Until we think about it.
In the interest of keeping myself sane, I work at celebrating the things I can do and the things I've been able to do. I went on vacation. I went on my 5th consecutive vacation. That is something I never thought I'd be doing, much less regularly. I am so very lucky - and I worked fucking hard for it, and I still am. I'm aware of all of the help and support I needed (and got) to be able to accomplish that (and help and support is not exclusive to the financial kind). I enjoyed myself.
I deserved it, too.
And it's not easy to maintain positive thought when you feel that things are falling apart around you - not even for me, Her Royal Highness, the crowned Fucking Cheerleader. When I'm aware of what's falling apart, I question whether doing something for myself (or having done something for myself) was the right thing to do, or if it wasn't the responsible thing to do. That begets the anger that comes with realizing you don't treat yourself as a priority - when you should be. And then there's the self-recrimination when you know that your 'problems' are surmountable. While I dislike the idea of comparisons, I can without the use of them know that my struggle is not as bad as it could be, and certainly not life-threatening - so what the hell am I complaining about?
Oh, I'm totally aware that my thought pattern is that of a seesaw.
But in those moments that I've been present - and aware of it - I see how many of life's answers come in the form of those little moments.
Analogies are life's wonderful little ways of showing us a small picture to help us understand the bigger picture. I've often referred to myself as the Queen of Analogies because I always seem to find them, and lately I'm seeing them a lot.
BFHD, right?
Well, to me, it is. I've come to believe the compulsions we have to express anything, in any way, are there for a reason. I believe creation is a two-part process; there is a compulsion in one person to express, and a matching reception in another. Yes, this is part of my gatherings of analogies that involve the coin that is not a coin unless both sides of it are there.
How will we know if a bear shits in the woods - I mean, if a tree falls?
Anyhoo, this is my compulsion, my reason, my expression. Denying it means having to deal with more stress - I can't explain why I feel the need to write, but I do, and if I don't let it out or act on it I make myself more miserable. There's a reason for everything, even if we don't know what it is. I'm trusting that and going with it.
At the very least, it makes the other shit easier to deal with.
If I figure out something that makes sense and I'm a mess when I figure it out, does that mean what I've figured out is wrong? Or am I wrong in putting it out there while I don't have my shit together? Do I need to look like an authority if I speak? Which is more important, the message or the messenger? Does any of it matter? We learn more when we mess up; why should we hold it in until we are 'better'? It's not really like my first purpose is for anyone else other than myself, and if what I say strikes a chord with anyone else that's just gravy, right? And if I'm writing for myself first, because I feel this need to, then the only person I have to worry about taking me seriously is me.
(Let's just take a moment to breathe here.)
Prepare for the analogies. "Life in ..." (from a hot mess). Don't worry; I'll probably only flood your feed for a short time, then disappear for another few months. I have books to write.
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