I'm Working On It
What doesn't kill you simply makes you stranger.
Growth is hard and it isn’t linear. You will overcome something, just to find something else hiding behind it. You will feel like you’re starting at square one, again and again. Your hormones will derail you and throw you into the bushes for a good week or so and when you emerge, you’ll laugh and be like, get a fucking grip, you little psycho. You’ll rage and cry when you think you’ve got it figured out, only to be schooled by the universe, then put in your place. You will pick a lane and at some point, find it wasn’t your lane at all. And all of the time will seem like a waste. You’ll be misunderstood. You’ll want to go with the crowd, even though your soul is crying for something different. You’ll sometimes take the easier route, knowing you should take the hard one, because your soul is weary. You’re always going to feel like a kid, no matter what age you reach. And you’ll wonder if you’re behind. If maybe you should be feeling some other way.
And so it turns out, the greatest revelation in my 41 years has been this: keep it simple. Every time I get bogged down by to-do’s, by things, by scrolling, by acquiring … I begin the process of missing the point. I’m constantly reminded to bring it back to the key ingredients that keep me even—to take care of my physical body, to make time to quiet my mind & listen to what it’s trying to tell me, to connect to myself, community, nature, and to something bigger (call it God, source, the universe—whatever speaks to you), to find a creative outlet that allows me to express myself authentically, and to find joy wherever I can—this is where I tap into gratitude and abundance.
I don’t need things. Granted, things are nice. I love my Breville, my Canon D5, the big fluffy comforter on my bed, my MacBook, all the clothes I’ve thrifted … But the attachment is minimal. I’d be sad if they perished, no doubt. But if they did, I’d still be here, right? These things can be replaced.
For a while, I spent my free time on building a freelance editorial business as well as focusing on my writing and preparing a lot of what had been written for publishing. At some point, my expectations began to build in the background. And although I was subtly aware of them, I was surprised when they became so heavy that I began to experience anxiety, doubt, frustration, imposter syndrome, and fear. I couldn’t carry them anymore. This was typically where I’d rage-quit. Or my sneaky ego would creep in and convince me that it wasn’t for me, anyway. (When the going gets tough, she likes to bail). It becomes a dire situation—I get so stressed that I don’t even realize it until I’m bitching at everyone around me, I’m doubting every single thing I do, I swear people think I’m a joke, and one small thing can set me off.
I realized I was going full-steam ahead—mostly in excitement—but mostly in this idea that I had to have it all established and figured out. I had to be success from the start. I had to hit certain numbers, and get to work right away and start making money. What I didn’t see clearly enough was that the most important thing was building a solid foundation first. I needed to build my skill set to a place where my confidence naturally grew. I was doubtful, because I wasn’t secure in my abilities. Subconsciously, I was pushing work away.
I felt like an imposter when posting my writing, especially as I got closer to my first book being published. I got caught up in worrying more about what others would think of the writing itself, as opposed to just writing for the joy of it. I worried creativity would start to feel like a burden.
At some point, I gathered up all of my fears and worries and I didn’t throw them out the window. I just kind of sat with them. Or better yet, I walked with them. I started taking daily walks on a trail near my house and connecting on all of the levels mentioned above. I was immersing myself in nature, communicating with something bigger than me, clearing my head, and ultimately realizing that I was exactly where I was supposed to be.
The more I walked, the less I felt I needed day-to-day. Everything I had was right there. My health, my ability to move. The freedom to be taking a walk alone for an hour in nature. Poems and essays and plot lines came easily to me as I walked. I consistently tapped back into the abundance that my life already knows. Every single time I stepped foot off of that trail, I walked away with the surety that everything is as it’s supposed to be. What a relief.
And in the ebb and flow of life, in all of the cycles we endure, I’d find myself back in the hands of doubt and worry. Some days, I’d make it to the trail and others, I wouldn’t. But I started to realize that everything I’d acquired on the trail followed me back home, anyway. And on those days when I couldn’t make it, I was able to tap back in and pull from it.
I can’t say for sure that everything happens for a reason. But there are lessons there. There is growth to be had, some sort of recalibration to be made. We have minds that like to think and make things up. And there will always be set-backs, failures, and mistakes, a doubting of oneself and the things we say and do. And there is no solution, I don’t think. Except maybe one where we yank ourselves out of the past and pull ourselves from the future and come back here—where every minute passes, as it does. Where growth is natural, overcoming unfolds on its own, and starting at square one is a privilege. Figuring it out is worthy of our time, picking a lane is joyful and fluid, and nothing could ever be a waste. Being misunderstood is ok and taking the easier route is met with compassion. Going with the crowd is outlawed by authenticity and feeling like a kid for the rest of our lives is met with delight. We will know there is no such thing as being behind. And that feeling any which way we do is simply ok, too.
“You must not ever stop being whimsical.” -Mary Oliver
You can purchase my book, I Might Imagine Wild Things (A book of poetry) through Barnes & Noble, Amazon, Bookshop, Thriftbooks, or through any online book retailer you prefer.
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