Friday, November 4, 2011

a fork in the creative road

Ideas are smacking me so hard in the head, I'm feeling dizzy at times. I've had 4 or 5 flashes of what to write today and at this point I'm curious as to what trajectory this blog post will take and where it'll end up. I kind of love these pieces - they unfold and lead me somewhere unexpected. 

Last night I was struck by yet more synchronicity and signs about where I should be focusing. While checking blog stats (yes I do this) I saw someone had check out a post from just over a year ago, a post about my brother and sister, who were both just out of the hospital and how I was feeling helpless, hopeless, frustrated watching them suffer. I desperately wanted to make them better, to radically change things, but I was powerless to do anything but be a support system. 

The post ended with me knowing that should there ever be anything I could do, of course I'd do it. 

A month later my brother asked me to be tested. 6 months after that I drastically, dramatically, positively changed his life. I've been wondering if a book about our kidney would be worth exploring and then I realized what a truly profound story it is. To choose to save someone's life. And have it work? Inspiration is a great launch pad. 

Which led me to my next potential blog post: for the love of drama. As soon as positive wraps its warm arms around me and holds me tight, doubt comes creeping softly in. I start spinning negative and last night, as my dad and stepmother, whom I haven't spoken to in almost a year, took hold of my thoughts, I was able to more clearly see just what my destructive process is. It doesn't have to be new drama. It doesn't have to be in the moment. I can dredge up pain and angst from years back to beat myself up with. And, I've learned, the most debilitating kind is focusing on not being wanted. Rejection, for whatever reason, is my kryptonite. 

I have to say that again: rejection is my kryptonite. Or, to push it even farther, fear of rejection. Of not being important, acknowledged, of being pushed out, ignored, marginalized. 

Whew. I can spend copious amounts of time and energy blaming other people. And then blaming myself. That place isn't easy for me to get out of. It's comfortable - as I've often said, there's comfort in the discomfort. 

And then, this morning as I was blasting my stereo in the car, listening through a genius playlist based on my new anthem, I heard this:

And what it all boils down to
Is that no one's really got it figured out just yet
'Cause I've got one hand in my pocket
And the other one is playing a piano

And what it all comes down to my dear friends, yeah
Is that everything is just fine fine fine
'Cause I've got one hand in my pocket
And the other one is hailing a taxi cab - Alanis Morissette

Yup. No one's figured it out just yet. But everything is fine. 

Everything is fine. 

As I'm getting back to myself, post book mania/Lexapro/kidney anxiety, these swings, these bursts, these flashes are feeling more and more comfortable. Intense yes but damn, to feel like myself again is awe inspiring. For a long time I forgot what that felt like. For a long time I was afraid that feeling like me meant falling apart. But maybe, I'm finally learning, that to be me is to accept all there is - the creativity, the drama, the anxiety, the fear of rejection - and to treat myself with acceptance and kindness regardless of where my thoughts and feelings are spinning. 

Hmmm. This feels like a good place to stop for today. Love Shack just came on. 

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