Tough

I have come to the end of the month.  I wanted to blog every day.  I didn't.  Still I'm really pleased I was able to write as often as I did.  It didn't turn out to be a way to establish my business, which was the inspiration for the daily post goal.  But writing here has been insightful and helpful.  I have gotten no comments and I'm ok about that.  This has gotten me over the thought that only with feedback can my words be validated.  I have written for myself.

Still I have accomplished some business related things: 

I have set up and sold at the flea market 8 times.

I have sold 205 things, that's 205 items out of my studio.

I have made $853, which is way more than I would have made if I spent the time watching netflix!

I discovered a women's group of small business owners, including some artists.  I have connected with a coach.  I have signed up for a retreat to allow me to walk into my dreams.

I haven't made any art.  I haven't wholeheartedly committed to my relationship.  I know the only thing needed to do both is to forgive with my whole heart.  It wasn't an easy thing to discover.  I find it is not an easy thing for me to do.  I am still resisting.  I have a sneaking suspicion that I am the one getting hurt the most.  But I'm not giving up on myself or my goal -- to be creative and happy.  I am just going to have to keep going. 

The Coming New Year

I am feeling the anticipation of a new year.  I am not Jewish and didn't celebrate the High Holy Days growing up, but school friends and neighbors did, and somehow it stuck with me that this is my new year.   It makes sense to begin a new year when the crops are in, when school begins, when the ease and frivolity of summer are at a close and it is time to get down to serious whatever. 

This time of year always energizes me.  It's the time I want to clean my house.  Start new projects.  Renew committments.  Atone and repent and spend time really looking at what I want for my year, what I want for my life.

Hold On

Someone's coming to inspect my house tomorrow, so life, worries, relationship issues, art and such have been put on hold while I deal with the stuff.  And I'm not even dealing with it on an emotional level, just physically cleaning and moving and making the place look like it is insurable.

I can't clean the whole house in 3 days.  I thought I could clean 3 rooms, but I forgot how much cleaning was needed.  And perhaps cleanliness isn't the issue.  As far as I know there are no termites.  The roof is less than a year old and the heating, and electrical systems work fine.  The basement and cellar, yes it's a funky old house and has one of each, never flood.  The only water damage we have ever suffered are broken pipes and a leaky roof and both have been addressed.

It hasn't been easy dealing with this.  A lot of heavy lifting.  It's not all my stuff and that has been hard for DH.  I know how much useless shit I have kicking around.  He has had tocome face to face with his junk the last 2 days and it has not been a pretty sight.  I'd love to be kind and tell him it doesn't matter, but it does.  The stuff he has clogging what might be his home office/studio keep him from working or practicing there.  Hell, they keep him from so much.  So I can't make him feel better, cuz he just might have to hit bottom to deal with it -- I'd say once and for all (I know this post is way too full of cliches). but if you tend to clutter, you have to deal with it weekly, if not daily.

There are a bunch of songs with the title or refrain, Hold On.  And all of them say pretty much the same.  Life isn't always easy.  But if you hold on, even if only for one more day, things just might get better.

The inspector's visit may be completely anticlimactic.  But out of it,  I got a really clean bedroom, a more open great room, and, if I can do it, an upper hallway that isn't a maze! 

Through the Ringer

Is it fair to put someone through the ringer for past mis-deeds?  When does the statute of limitations run out on "you done me wrong" recriminations?  Is there a way to work out these feelings of hurt and fear without beating someone else up, metaphorically speaking?  I don't know the answer to any of these questions.  Well I know therapy is a possible solution, I'm just not going that route.  I know I never mean the conversations to be mean.  I actually often think I am just talking about what is affecting me.  Maybe I will just share what I am thinking.  It all starts without any malice.  I just want to share my feelings.  But I think I have finally discovered that my feelings are so dark and festering, that to share them with anyone but this blog or a therapist, who might be able to help, is really cruel.  It is pretending to be factual, when in reality I am venomous.

So even tho I am still hurting, it really isn't fair to ask another person to feel as rotten as I do without some sort of solution or healing involved in the conversation.  If one really can't say something constructive about a problem it's time to let it go or get professional help.

Wish it was like this ringer washing machine - EASY!

What I'm Thinking Today

At the beginning of the month it was a lot easier to post every day.  No kids visiting.  Husband at work daily.  This last couple weeks have brought everyone home and on holiday for a while.  It's nice and tough at the same time. 

And on the one hand I can be very content in my own little world.  I rarely get lonely when I am alone.  I either think a lot or escape a lot.  But no one knows or passes any judgement.  On the other hand, it's good for me to be around my family.  They are who I am working through issues with.  And they are the ones who force me to deal with my stuff and make me recognize how resistant to change I have become. 

On the topic of stuff removal, I had another fabulous day of selling stuff at the local flea market.  I even got rid of a bunch of china when a shelf blew over and serious breakage occurred.  It's funny, but it just doesn't bother me that stuff broke.  I picked up the pieces and put them in the trash.  I'm sorry people won't get to buy some pretty things, but I don't have to unpack or pack those things up ever again.  The other vendors were very upset.  But really it was just an alternative way of removing things I no longer want or need.  And I guess if it turns out to bother me after I have slept on it, I'll return here and write about it.

Over and out, good night!

Your Song

I am taking a journey of discovery and healing this month.   Today I have had another ah ha moment.

I am a firm believer that there are no coincidences and that all things both happen for a reason and work together for good to them that love God...  So it shouldn't amaze me that somehow I chanced upon The Actor's Studio interview with Elton John.   Because listening to that program has taken me one more step into the realm of forgiveness and pardon. 

It's a great interview which includes Elton John playing Your Song, a song that always reminds me of my sister.  I used to visit her a lot her freshman year at UCLA.   One visit in particular came flooding back to me.  I have been awfully angry about something that was done to me years ago.  And while listening to this beautiful song, I realized I actually did the same thing to someone else.  There's no way I can apologize for my misdeed.  But what I can do is recognize I didn't do it to hurt another.  I was just very young and thought-less.  And if I had no evil intent, perhaps the person who hurt me didn't either.  If I am willing to forgive myself for messing up, I need to forgive the individual who hurt me. 

Step by step I am undoing the things I have let stop me fully expressing myself.  I'm kinda amazed.  But it doesn't amaze me that the keys to healing should come via music.  That is the most natural thing in the world.  

A Quiet, Empty House

Which comes first, the title or the content?  That has nothing to do with this post, it's just something I was thinking about before starting to write.  In this case I am writing first.  The title will have to reveal itself when I get to the end. 

I have been obsessively watching a TV show on netflix.  I think I will continue to watch until I get every bit of wisdom and help I can get out of it.  It may seem funny to look for direction that way, but this show seems to touch me and my hopes, my dreams, and my past in a way that makes sense and shows me a way to go.

Everyone left for the afternoon.  Dad drove the gang to Boston where one kid lives, one is visiting friends and I am left with a quiet, empty house.  It's nice.  These days I am more sensitive to criticism than I have been since I lived with my parents.  I need these respites from people who love me, want only the best for me, but have definite opinions of what I should and shouldn't do.

I'm not saying they aren't right in their opinions.  It's just easier to watch this funny, quirky, sweet TV show and see if I can't find the impetus to move where I need to move.  It's easier to watch characters dealing with issues similar to mine.  Unlike me, they have writers to give them their lines.  And even when the characters appear tongue-tied or angry or sad or any other emotion that mimics what I am feeling, they manage to say things that are poignant or witty or endearing.  I try to talk all this stuff out, but it always sounds so much better in my head.  A staff of writers would be such an improvement!

Slowly I am finding hope.  A sense that I can be happy.  That I can be loving and caring and not at the effect of either past events or stuff.  It still feels like I have a way to go, but it also feels like I am walking toward the light at the end of the tunnel and not into the deep dark cave.

So what will I call this post?  Hope?  Peace?  Guess I'll just name it for what surrounds me right now.

Change

Change is not easy.  In fact, it is downright difficult!  For habits they say it takes 28 days to change.  But what if you have to change yourself?  Your attitudes, the way you relate to specific people, maybe even the way you think?

And what happens when these changes mean you have to disavow most of your adult life?  In my case, it feels like a gnawing pain in the pit of my stomach when I wake up.  It feels like the adreneline flood of a panic attack.  None of this is very pleasant. 

As I wrote yesterday, I do know what I need to do.  I keep waiting for some sign that what I need to do won't wreck me completely.  My kids are visiting this week, which compounds what I am going through.  It's not as easy to be contemplative when they are here.  They have their own agenda and things they want me to do.  And I know I am being stubborn.  The choice is clear.  Can I make it?  Yes.  But can I let go of  the entire way I have lived my adult life?  Will there be anything left of the me I have been all this time?  Do I want to hold on to her?  And what happens if. . . ?  Would I survive?

Dang.  I wish this was easier.

What I Need to Do

I had thought to write every day this month.  It was a quest to find my artistic voice and see how I could express more creativity.  It is a wonderful thing to go on a quest.  It can be deeply spiritual.  Like a retreat. Or wanting to find meaning in the universe.  It can also be ridiculously absurd.  Like Monty Python's pursuit of the Holy Grail.  But you never know what your quest will reveal.

This one has shown me the fear that is stopping me in almost every aspect of my life.  And it has also shown me what I need to do.  But in order to move forward, I really am going to have to take a huge leap of faith and make a choice.  And that choice is the most terrifying thing I can imagine right now.

As debilitating as my current circumstances are, it seems so much easier to do nothing different.  To live with all the stuff.  To escape in my usual ways.  To give lip service to being an artist, but never make any effort to create daily.  To go through the motions in my relationships with friends & family.  Honestly, I would rather not change.   It means I would have to let go of some old hurts and forgive both myself and others.  And I am very scared.  To do what I need to do opens me up to the possibility of great pain and sorrow.  It could also open me up to a wonderful creative and fulfilling life. 

I know what I need to do.  I still don't know if I can do it.

Run Away, Run Away

I am spitting mad!

A whole bunch of things have happened this week that have really pissed me off:  this stupid man I met at the flea market.  (Why I engage in conversations with stupid men I don't know.  I should just ignore them!)  the UPS driver who cut me off today.  tourist drivers where I live.  my best friend constantly trying to fix me.  I told her something that was bothering me and now she keeps harping on it and wanting to know why and make suggestions.  I don't want help, I just wanted a friend to vent to, just someone I can bitch and bellyache with and not all the time, just once in a while.  I am mad she wants to fix me.  I am mad she sees me as a person who needs to be fixed.  And I probably am a little mad at myself that I can't just tell her to stop doing that.  I spend two full days with her every week in a business venture and it makes me feel stuck.   (and I thought this post would have nothing at all to do with stuck-ness.  urghhh)

I hate being mad.  It triggers a rush of adreneline to my system, which turns on the fight or flight response and my response is always to flee!  And then mad turns to scared  or sad and depressed and staying under the covers for days at a time seems the only solution.

There is a wonderful bit  -- "run away, run away," from Monty Python & The Holy Grail., and that is what I am going to do.  Oh and to all those people who have irritated me this week, again I quote Monty Python in a ridiculous French accent:   "Your mother was a hamster and your father smelt of elderberries. I blow my nose at you!"

Sometimes it is difficult to let go

My kids are coming to visit this week and they clearly disapprove of all the crap I have collected and strewn about the house and barn.  Sometimes I just think they are upset with me about it.  But they are such incredible, amazing people, that when I can think clearly, I know they are upset because they see how debilitating it is for me.  And while I don't seem able to deal with the stuff on a daily basis, when they are here or a visit is planned, I do make an effort to do something with it all.

Moving stuff from place to place might make it look like there is less.  But honestly if my kids just moved the peas around their plates, I would know they hadn't eaten them.  So who am I fooling by throwing it into boxes and putting it in unused spaces in the house.  Ultimately I need to get rid of the stuff. 

I have gotten sentimental about the things I have collected.  The piles and piles and piles of beautiful white linens.  The vintage clothing I used to wear in high school and college.  The books.  Oh, the books.  It's not that the items themselves are important to me.  It is the memories they represent.  The way some of these things defined me at one point in my life.  When I see them, specially unexpectedly, I get these great nostalgic rushes!

And sometimes things are a barrier to hold back sadness or tough times or anxiety.  Sometimes it is difficult to let go.

Stuff

I think about "stuff" a lot.  I have too much.  I know it would be so good to get rid of most of it.  To that end, I sell at flea markets twice a week.  And I give stuff away to the Salvation Army & the local swap shop.  But the pile of stuff never seems to get any smaller. And I often have this idea that if I were to pack it all up, call Goodwill or Salvation Army to come haul it away, I would be so much better off.   My kids are coming to visit at the end of the week and it brings it all to the fore.  They can see clearly how much this impacts me.  It may not be the thing that is making me stuck, but it doesn't help.

So I share with you this bit from Firesign Theatre, the last line pretty much sums up my conflicting views.

Announcer: "So here's your last deal Ms. Presky -- now, which would would you rather do? Hit this dude over the head with a bag of sugar ...or beat out that rhythm on the drums..."

Mrs. Presky: "Er....ahhhhh....I'll take the bag."

Announcer: "You mean you're gonna trade this four foot cube of 18 carat Swiss Bouillon and the steak knives, Mrs. Presky, all for that little bag ???"

Mrs. Presky: "Yes!"

Announcer: "Well alllllright!! Open it up!!"

Mrs. Presky: "Why. . why . . this is a bag of shit!"

Announcer: "But it's really GREAT shit, Mrs Presky."

-- Firesign Theatre, Don't Crush That Dwarf, Hand Me the Pliers.

Keeping Journals

I'm no stranger to journals.  I have kept them since I was 14.  They are the way I make sense of whatever is going on with me.  I've written about family, about love, about loss.  I've written when I was angry or hurt or depressed or just plain confused.  I have written when sentimental and even happy, but mostly it's the tough times that inspire me to write.  I've written down my dreams and later found they were telling me things I wasn't consciously aware of.  But all those journals were written just for me.  They were never public so I could be messy or ungrammatical or mean or thoroughly pissed off. 

For me, this blog is a different kind of journal.  I am still writing about very personal issues.  And I am still being honest.  But it's not the unvarnished truth.  I edit.  I consider the words I will use.  I consider that someone else might read this.  Now currently there is no indication that anyone but me is reading this.  But this is a public sphere and ya never know.  Someone I know just might read what I have written.  It makes me think really hard about what I will write.  I don't want to tell all the gory details.  They are not important.  What is important is the emotional truth.

Retuning to this blog started because I was tired of being stuck.  Writing in my private journal was not moving me forward.  It didn't get me moving.  And it didn't tell me what is going on with me.  Somehow editing out the details, the despair (which I just didn't want to put out for anyone else to see) is allowing me to see what is true for me.  It's a slow go, so I don't know if it will unstuck me.  But it sure is nice to notice that each day I have a further insight and I take one more step toward wholeness.

My Heart is A Fixed Point

I keep thinking that all this angst is about making art.  But it's not.  It's about opening my heart again.  The art stuff is just there in the background because it's something I want to do.  But I can't.  I can barely get out of bed each day.  But that's just a symptom.  Trust is the real issue.  Because it seems to me if you can't trust, you can't love.  And if you can't love it's impossible to do anything else.

Is trust something one can learn to do?  I used to be the most trusting person.  And then. . .
Did I lose the ability to trust?  Is it a permanent loss?  I don't know.  I'm not sure I even know how to find the answer.

This is such a tough thing to deal with for me.  For no matter how much I have been hurt, how much I mourn the loss of trust, my heart is still a fixed point.  It has been since that summer at camp so many years ago.  Hearts are amazing things.  And it's really, really scary to open them up when there is no guarantee that they won't be broken again.

Gallileo, Newton and me

What will I say today?  A friend of mine was working on growing her business and the business coach told her to blog every day for 30 days.  I don't have a business coach, but I would like to.  I love the idea of coaches!  I'm not  sure I have a business and I'm not sure I could sustain one.  But I want to express my creativity.  And I don't want to be stuck any longer.  And since writing has always been the way I make sense of my life, here I am again, writing.  

So, what will I say today?  I've been thinking about physics a lot lately.
What will open my heart and allow me to be more than a passive observer? 
 What disrupts inertia?  Newton's First Law states: 

"An object at rest stays at rest and an object in motion stays in motion with the same speed and in the same direction unless acted upon by an unbalanced force."

Could it be my life is too balanced?  It doesn't feel like it.  I don't feel at a point of equilibrium.  I think of balance as good, really good.  But according the laws of the universe, to move beyond being a body at rest, this body needs to be acted upon by an unbalanced force.

"To determine if the forces acting upon an object are balanced or unbalanced, an analysis must first be conducted to determine what forces are acting upon the object and in what direction. If two individual forces are of equal magnitude and opposite direction, then the forces are said to be balanced. An object is said to be acted upon by an unbalanced force only when there is an individual force that is not being balanced by a force of equal magnitude and in the opposite direction."

I'm going to have to think more about what forces are acting upon me.  And of course I don't know if you can apply Newtonian laws to emotional inertia.  But on the other hand it's a whole different way to think and maybe that in itself is an unbalanced force!



For more info on the science, check out The Physics Classroom   

She Don't Look Back

 That's the part of the lyrics I have always struggled with.  On the one hand I love looking back.  I am fond of telling stories.  My young adulthood was a most magical time and I mine it for smiles all the time.  But I think Dylan was talking about a woman who didn't bother with regrets.  And while I have no regrets from  high school or college, I have looked back over the last decade or so and wondered if the song lyrics still pertain to me.

I discovered theatre in high school.  Freshman year in college I wandered over to the theatre building and that's where I spent all my time for the next year and a half.  I was certainly too quiet and self conscious to take acting classes, but I felt right at home in the design/tech part of a production.  I loved the creativity. Designing sets is a combination of drafting skill and artistry.  Costuming is a combination of sewing skills and creativity.  And building sets, painting backdrops, sewing costumes with a bunch of dedicated folks is absolute heaven -- no matter how late you have to be there! 
 
However, the reason I love the lyrics is they were the first time someone told me I was an artist.  I had a friend.  I met him that freshman year in theatre design class.  He was an artist and hip and experienced and someone I felt amazingly connected to.  He really made me feel special.  We'd go to a party and I always knew where he was, we'd catch each others eye and smile at some private joke.  We'd jump into each others conversations from the across the room without skipping a beat.  At least that is how I remember it.  I never thought it would go anywhere -- like marriage or children, but I loved being in his company and he was always a lot of fun.  He was someone I felt comfortable talking to and sharing my feelings.  Since I was usually tongue-tied around guys I liked, this was a revelation!  We stayed friends all through college.

I don't remember exactly how it came about, but I must have been bemoaning the fact that I wasn't an artist and I wish I was, or something like that.  And my friend quoted Dylan,  "She's got everything she needs/she's an artist/she don't look back."  That's you, he said.  Art is a state of mind.  You are an artist because of who you are, not what you do.

Powerful stuff.