I started this blog a little over a year ago with the intent of practicing putting myself out there, to the unknown masses, with my writing, and I have done that. Hurray for me, so excited, but here I am not sure what to write and having one of those days where, even though I've written almost 2000 words this morning and feel I'm in the meat of the short story I'm working on, I feel lost or maybe just unsure of what the hell I'm doing, once again.
I have these moments, where nothing seems to make sense and my mind banters me with questions, deep life-changing questions, like why am I here, and why am I compelled to write, and why do I feel uncomfortable letting people get to know me, and why do I have the tendency to isolate and why, why, why? It goes on, and, of course, I do know the answers to some of these questions, but having the answer doesn't always solve the problem of asking the question numerous times. My brain exercises a glitch of repetition, wishing for a different answer then the one it received, so it questions again and again in case the true-right answer pushes up from the definite daisies it has being hiding under.
Why am I here? Here, I'm guessing, means alive on this planet we call earth. My answer: I don't know, won't know, don't need to figure it out.
Why am I compelled to write? My answer for this one is milky and more like the tip-of-the-tongue-phenomenon, where it's right there, but I can't touch it no matter how much I reach for it. Again, I don't know, not really, but I do know how I feel when I do write and after I'm done. I feel whole like I found the puzzle piece I needed for the moment, clicked it into place, and it fit.
Why do I feel uncomfortable letting people get to know me? Easy. Fear of being hurt. That's what it comes down to though I don't necessarily enjoy saying that out loud because it would be cooler to say something other than that or to just not have the issue in the first place and be social and open with everyone who crosses my path. I can say that I've made huge strides of growth with this and don't go straight to "What the @#*& do you want?" when someone says hello. I used to.
I remember my husband and I moving into a new house, several years ago, and a neighbor across the street came over to welcome us, and my mind went literally to what I just quoted, and I know I had a scrunched-mean look on my face. Gratefully, my husband doesn't live by the same emotional-means I do and said hi and was friendly, thank goodness. Now, my defenses are subtler and not always easy for me to recognize when I'm hiding behind them, but I keep my hand out there, keep chatting and listening, and keep writing.
Why do I have the tendency to isolate? This one rides on the coattails of the one above, so I counter balance it by leaving the house and trying new things.
And the other whys, well, they are just too numerous and once I move through the ones already mentioned, I find I don't need to answer the others because they're irrelevant for the day.
The main question I need to answer today is "Am I experiencing today in its entirety?" because if I am, then none of the other questions matter. If I am experiencing today in its entirety, then I'm not trying to figure out why I'm here because the simple fact of being here is enough. Why I'm compelled to write doesn't need to be dissected any longer, it just is. Why I feel uncomfortable letting people in and tend to isolate becomes mute because if I'm experiencing my day in its entirety, then I'm not hiding, I'm living and feeling and laughing and talking and so on.
At the end of it all, after the feeling of what-the-hell-am-I-doing passes, I find I'm okay, and life is simple. If I show up on this journey called life, I'll be wherever I need to be when I need to be there and will know whatever it is I need to know at the time of needing to know it, and, in the meantime, I get to enjoy where I'm at and the possibilities that come with change and challenge, as long as I cultivate an open-mind to what could be while I keep moving forward.
I have these moments, where nothing seems to make sense and my mind banters me with questions, deep life-changing questions, like why am I here, and why am I compelled to write, and why do I feel uncomfortable letting people get to know me, and why do I have the tendency to isolate and why, why, why? It goes on, and, of course, I do know the answers to some of these questions, but having the answer doesn't always solve the problem of asking the question numerous times. My brain exercises a glitch of repetition, wishing for a different answer then the one it received, so it questions again and again in case the true-right answer pushes up from the definite daisies it has being hiding under.
Why am I here? Here, I'm guessing, means alive on this planet we call earth. My answer: I don't know, won't know, don't need to figure it out.
Why am I compelled to write? My answer for this one is milky and more like the tip-of-the-tongue-phenomenon, where it's right there, but I can't touch it no matter how much I reach for it. Again, I don't know, not really, but I do know how I feel when I do write and after I'm done. I feel whole like I found the puzzle piece I needed for the moment, clicked it into place, and it fit.
Why do I feel uncomfortable letting people get to know me? Easy. Fear of being hurt. That's what it comes down to though I don't necessarily enjoy saying that out loud because it would be cooler to say something other than that or to just not have the issue in the first place and be social and open with everyone who crosses my path. I can say that I've made huge strides of growth with this and don't go straight to "What the @#*& do you want?" when someone says hello. I used to.
I remember my husband and I moving into a new house, several years ago, and a neighbor across the street came over to welcome us, and my mind went literally to what I just quoted, and I know I had a scrunched-mean look on my face. Gratefully, my husband doesn't live by the same emotional-means I do and said hi and was friendly, thank goodness. Now, my defenses are subtler and not always easy for me to recognize when I'm hiding behind them, but I keep my hand out there, keep chatting and listening, and keep writing.
Why do I have the tendency to isolate? This one rides on the coattails of the one above, so I counter balance it by leaving the house and trying new things.
And the other whys, well, they are just too numerous and once I move through the ones already mentioned, I find I don't need to answer the others because they're irrelevant for the day.
The main question I need to answer today is "Am I experiencing today in its entirety?" because if I am, then none of the other questions matter. If I am experiencing today in its entirety, then I'm not trying to figure out why I'm here because the simple fact of being here is enough. Why I'm compelled to write doesn't need to be dissected any longer, it just is. Why I feel uncomfortable letting people in and tend to isolate becomes mute because if I'm experiencing my day in its entirety, then I'm not hiding, I'm living and feeling and laughing and talking and so on.
At the end of it all, after the feeling of what-the-hell-am-I-doing passes, I find I'm okay, and life is simple. If I show up on this journey called life, I'll be wherever I need to be when I need to be there and will know whatever it is I need to know at the time of needing to know it, and, in the meantime, I get to enjoy where I'm at and the possibilities that come with change and challenge, as long as I cultivate an open-mind to what could be while I keep moving forward.
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