So I am posting everyday on my new blog and found it terrifying for some reason yesterday, not sure what put me over the edge but today will go back to my more private writing project I think. Am glad I kept this blog going so I have somewhere I can vent in a different way. Perhaps this is a bit whoosy (sp?) I don't know...
Anyway, hoping to continue along and not get deterred by fear. Please wish me luck. This is usually the point at which I exit stage left and say well that was a bad idea and wait for the more socially acceptable option to appear. I pray for the strength not to do that...
be well everyone.
Saturday, May 28, 2011
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
started a new blog...
Hey all,
I've started a new public blog. As I want to remain anonymous regarding this one, I can't give you the link, but I'm pretty sure most of you reading this already know me. If not, and you really want to know the address of the public blog, you can try leaving me a comment here with a way to contact you and I'll do my best.
I may also still post here as there are things I can't really talk about publicly - especially recovery stuff and this would be the place for all that. But I am not sure how much I will be writing here, so wanted to check in now before I forget.
This has been an amazing ride, and I feel, as with therapy today, in some ways - with this phase - I'm done. Not as in I'll never grow more or find out more stuff, but there has been an extraordinary change internally and I feel deeply OK, just that: OK. And like I am OK no matter what. I've never felt this before in my life.
Something about 'going public' is important too, putting my name on stuff, not hiding in the wings afraid of people knowing my name and what I really feel. It feels a bit like I've emerged from a cocoon or perhaps shed a skin...all the analogies sound pretty lame, but you get the picture.
I really feel like I've graduated from high-school, especially today, leaving my therapists for the last time after 7 years of work, crying, for the loss of such an amazing person in my life but knowing it was the right thing at the right time.
Now, I'm off to bed as I've blogged til I dropped earlier today on my other blog and need to stop staring at screens...
be well everyone and blessings to all.
I've started a new public blog. As I want to remain anonymous regarding this one, I can't give you the link, but I'm pretty sure most of you reading this already know me. If not, and you really want to know the address of the public blog, you can try leaving me a comment here with a way to contact you and I'll do my best.
I may also still post here as there are things I can't really talk about publicly - especially recovery stuff and this would be the place for all that. But I am not sure how much I will be writing here, so wanted to check in now before I forget.
This has been an amazing ride, and I feel, as with therapy today, in some ways - with this phase - I'm done. Not as in I'll never grow more or find out more stuff, but there has been an extraordinary change internally and I feel deeply OK, just that: OK. And like I am OK no matter what. I've never felt this before in my life.
Something about 'going public' is important too, putting my name on stuff, not hiding in the wings afraid of people knowing my name and what I really feel. It feels a bit like I've emerged from a cocoon or perhaps shed a skin...all the analogies sound pretty lame, but you get the picture.
I really feel like I've graduated from high-school, especially today, leaving my therapists for the last time after 7 years of work, crying, for the loss of such an amazing person in my life but knowing it was the right thing at the right time.
Now, I'm off to bed as I've blogged til I dropped earlier today on my other blog and need to stop staring at screens...
be well everyone and blessings to all.
Sunday, May 15, 2011
just found new family!
Hey everyone,
I have the most incredible news ever. I just made contact with a huge part of my family that I didn't even know existed because my grandfather changed his name in the 40s because of the Red scare - his boss told him his name was 'too Red' - for anyone too young to understand that it means too Communist, back when the US was even more paranoid than it is now...well maybe about the same, but it was directed to everyone. So I am suddenly being embraced by a very large, Catholic family as a lost member thereof, which I am. I will be meeting them when I visit the US in June I think. I just cried and cried when I got a response to my letters - sent out in hopes they were to the right people, who are all in their late 80s. They live in the same area my grandparents grew up and I just can't believe I'm going to finally find out what happened - I had heard about the name change but was not sure about spelling or anything and tracked them down using a card sent to my grandmother when my grandfather died - a card that I found in my father's things the week I was in California for his death.
I am completely overwhelmed for so many reasons. As an only child from a multiple-broken home (many mothers and fathers) I used to envy the kids with big Catholic families. My grandfather had 14 brothers and sisters! And I never knew any of them until now. Only a few are alive but my new great uncle is beside himself with happiness I'm in touch a new cousin is too and I cannot wait to meet them. It is all reminding me of my grandfather's love, which was the closest to unconditional I had growing up. And to feel this warm embrace now, in this time of my life which I'm in such transition and doing all this research on my grandmothers is just amazing.
The card I used to track them down was sent my a great aunt who died last November but who arranged for mass to be said for my grandfather when he died in the early 90s for a year. And from her name and that fact I started searching and I found them through her obituary. I wish I had started the search earlier to meet her. Perhaps she is the one who has guided me along here, it could be. I know that may sound hooey but I believe in that type of thing...
I am old enough that the family and love embrace means so much. I have only recently begun feeling the cool chill of having been an only child and the lack of support or just allies in my life. My father was an only child too and so it's a shame he lost all these cousins in the name-change and what appears like some kind of icing out of this family....who's decision was that? My grandmother's? I really don't know. I will find all this out soon enough, but right now just finding out who these wonderful folks are that are being so loving and trusting and Embracing.
Wow is all I have to say. Wow. I keep crying - with happiness - the big Catholic family I always dreamt of as a child and suddenly, it's here. I never knew I had one. What an amazing gift.
Wishing you all many blessings.
I have the most incredible news ever. I just made contact with a huge part of my family that I didn't even know existed because my grandfather changed his name in the 40s because of the Red scare - his boss told him his name was 'too Red' - for anyone too young to understand that it means too Communist, back when the US was even more paranoid than it is now...well maybe about the same, but it was directed to everyone. So I am suddenly being embraced by a very large, Catholic family as a lost member thereof, which I am. I will be meeting them when I visit the US in June I think. I just cried and cried when I got a response to my letters - sent out in hopes they were to the right people, who are all in their late 80s. They live in the same area my grandparents grew up and I just can't believe I'm going to finally find out what happened - I had heard about the name change but was not sure about spelling or anything and tracked them down using a card sent to my grandmother when my grandfather died - a card that I found in my father's things the week I was in California for his death.
I am completely overwhelmed for so many reasons. As an only child from a multiple-broken home (many mothers and fathers) I used to envy the kids with big Catholic families. My grandfather had 14 brothers and sisters! And I never knew any of them until now. Only a few are alive but my new great uncle is beside himself with happiness I'm in touch a new cousin is too and I cannot wait to meet them. It is all reminding me of my grandfather's love, which was the closest to unconditional I had growing up. And to feel this warm embrace now, in this time of my life which I'm in such transition and doing all this research on my grandmothers is just amazing.
The card I used to track them down was sent my a great aunt who died last November but who arranged for mass to be said for my grandfather when he died in the early 90s for a year. And from her name and that fact I started searching and I found them through her obituary. I wish I had started the search earlier to meet her. Perhaps she is the one who has guided me along here, it could be. I know that may sound hooey but I believe in that type of thing...
I am old enough that the family and love embrace means so much. I have only recently begun feeling the cool chill of having been an only child and the lack of support or just allies in my life. My father was an only child too and so it's a shame he lost all these cousins in the name-change and what appears like some kind of icing out of this family....who's decision was that? My grandmother's? I really don't know. I will find all this out soon enough, but right now just finding out who these wonderful folks are that are being so loving and trusting and Embracing.
Wow is all I have to say. Wow. I keep crying - with happiness - the big Catholic family I always dreamt of as a child and suddenly, it's here. I never knew I had one. What an amazing gift.
Wishing you all many blessings.
Monday, May 2, 2011
I heard the news today....
So, woke up to news of Osama Bin Laden having been killed, and as I lived in NYC most of my life up until 2003, I was moved to tears...not 'of joy'...I don't even know what of...but I am reminded of 9/11 and the sadness of that day and the sense so many of us had that we never wanted to see anything like that ever again - anywhere. So it is a mixed feeling.
I knew then - even when it was happening - that the US had a hand in it - not in the conspiracy theory way, but in the sense of our foreign policy in the Middle East making this kind of reaction at some point almost inevitable. That it would be so incredibly masterfully planned and executed, that I did not in any way predict. But I was as terrified as everyone else and as devastated as everyone else for long afterwards.
I now live in London in a neighborhood with a large Muslim population some of whom are radical some of whom are just wandering around rooting for their football teams. Some of the people who supposedly wanted to blow up planes using liquid in shampoo bottles came from around the corner. They were teenagers wearing track suits and frankly didn't seem too capable of their attacks if their 'martyrdom' videos are anything to go by...
So here I am like usual, seeing and feeling things from many places at once. The place of the person who had her hometown attacked and smelled the stench of dead bodies and plastic for weeks afterwards - a smell I wish on no one ever. The person who lives overseas now and sees the US from this POV too. Who wonders about the people wandering around yelling USA today - that in their teens and 20s, who saw 9/11 when they were 12 or 13 and must believe a monster has been slain.
And the part of me that on that day 9/11 decided to commit myself on the deepest possible level to non-violence even if it was fucking terrifying...not that day, that's a lie...a couple weeks later. I read Gandhi and began to realize how hardcore that man was...what kind of faith is necessary to be non-violent and that it means risking death. I knew I wanted to be that, was not sure if I was as hardcore...but I did commit to this: attempt to disinvest from the patriarchy on a molecular level...
This is what I have been attempting since then...it's almost 10 years later...have I? I don't know, honestly. I weirdly enjoyed watching the royal wedding, which seems to disqualify me on the face of it - felt some kind of awe at the continuity it implied and was drawn in by the emotions of any wedding of anyone...but also as some who comes from broken everything and lives in a global capitalist world beset by trends and planned obsolesence, the tenaciousness of the monarchy alone is somewhat awe-inspiring...
which means I have definitely Not disinvested from the patriarchy at a molecular level.
What I have done is this: managed to begin to observe myself without judgment or less judgment anyway - decided to that these emotions I have are simple those - they are the weather and not the atmosphere.
I am writing now, a lot, and letting go of millions of expectations I have felt of myself both externally and internally imposed...I am letting of 'the image of me' - it's just crumbling. Somehow this seems more important than any ideological stance...it feels alive and well alive...
And so I cried when I heard the news that Osama bin Laden was killed. And that means...I don't know. I wonder if I will move back to New York. I wonder where I will be in a few years. I really don't know. Right now what's most important is my writing and my finding the last living relatives of my dead grandparents...
A couple days ago tracked down a lot of people and need to start writing letters...found the war death record of my grandmother's brother killed in a Destroyer by a Kamikaze at the battle of Okinawa. My grandfather worked on the Manhattan project - as an admin person...he was too small to go to war and changed his name at his boss's request because it was 'too Red' - those are the relatives I'm trying to track down and find out if they are related or adopted parents...so murky...
and I have a cousin once removed and her husband who are Palin supporters of all things...so I definitely need to talk with them and find out how on earth that works. My grandparents on that side were Nixon supports though, they were the hardcore who during Watergate said 'Ah, they're all liars, he just got caught.' And so he should have been left alone presumably.
The other side of my family are as virulent democrats, so there you have it...class/political warfare American style, internecine, irrational, angry...strains like viruses...apparently I, like most Americans, am a mutt...a conflagration (I use that word on purpose) of all of these strains...identifying with some, trying to damp down others and then they rise again...a crazy quilt of emotions and loyalties.
When I was young and living with my left-wing mother and 3rd father, I was a Republican and Baptist - no shit. I argued for this stuff pretty violently. I got over it when I was 16 and doing a history paper on Iran. It was 1979 and the hostages were being held in the embassy after the first big islamic revolution, and my history prof said why don't you check out the CIA's involvement in 1953, which being a good student I did...and all my political ideas changed...I saw the cynicism of US foreign policy and went ballistic (also used on purpose that word...), and turned into a left wing activist for many years after that. Like usual my timing was impeccable - in the 1970s when US was liberal, I was conservative, when US was about to go all Ray-gun, I turn into someone who my mother proudly told her friends was 'somewhat left of Mao'...in her circle, this was a good thing.
And now? I write a lot...I am sorting through a lot. I still hold non-violence as the highest ideal, even if I don't know if I'm capable of it. I know that I never want anyone to suffer what we did in NYC on 9/11 and I know the US has inflicted that type of suffering on others and that makes me sad. The UK too, don't worry I'm not delusional and think it's all crunchy granola over here, cause it's definitely Not. But I still vote in the US and am still American in the end...so feel more responsible for that.
It's a beautiful day here in London - blue skies, gorgeous just like on 9/11. I hope my neighborhood doesn't kick off today, it could. I will walk outside tentatively and see what the mood is. I hope there is not some big crackdown and helicopters everywhere. I hope that the young amazing people leading the various revolutions in the Middle East are the future - extraordinary courage, commitment for the most part to non-violence and an ability to die for a cause, simply to get out from under soul-destroying dictatorships. God bless them...whatever 'god' - I don't care I really really don't...
Oh please, this is my prayer to the universe or Whoever - let this day someone bring peace and not what I fear which is more violence...please let the US begin withdrawing from the places it has no business and and and.....you know, I know you know...I don't need to say these things out loud.
I knew then - even when it was happening - that the US had a hand in it - not in the conspiracy theory way, but in the sense of our foreign policy in the Middle East making this kind of reaction at some point almost inevitable. That it would be so incredibly masterfully planned and executed, that I did not in any way predict. But I was as terrified as everyone else and as devastated as everyone else for long afterwards.
I now live in London in a neighborhood with a large Muslim population some of whom are radical some of whom are just wandering around rooting for their football teams. Some of the people who supposedly wanted to blow up planes using liquid in shampoo bottles came from around the corner. They were teenagers wearing track suits and frankly didn't seem too capable of their attacks if their 'martyrdom' videos are anything to go by...
So here I am like usual, seeing and feeling things from many places at once. The place of the person who had her hometown attacked and smelled the stench of dead bodies and plastic for weeks afterwards - a smell I wish on no one ever. The person who lives overseas now and sees the US from this POV too. Who wonders about the people wandering around yelling USA today - that in their teens and 20s, who saw 9/11 when they were 12 or 13 and must believe a monster has been slain.
And the part of me that on that day 9/11 decided to commit myself on the deepest possible level to non-violence even if it was fucking terrifying...not that day, that's a lie...a couple weeks later. I read Gandhi and began to realize how hardcore that man was...what kind of faith is necessary to be non-violent and that it means risking death. I knew I wanted to be that, was not sure if I was as hardcore...but I did commit to this: attempt to disinvest from the patriarchy on a molecular level...
This is what I have been attempting since then...it's almost 10 years later...have I? I don't know, honestly. I weirdly enjoyed watching the royal wedding, which seems to disqualify me on the face of it - felt some kind of awe at the continuity it implied and was drawn in by the emotions of any wedding of anyone...but also as some who comes from broken everything and lives in a global capitalist world beset by trends and planned obsolesence, the tenaciousness of the monarchy alone is somewhat awe-inspiring...
which means I have definitely Not disinvested from the patriarchy at a molecular level.
What I have done is this: managed to begin to observe myself without judgment or less judgment anyway - decided to that these emotions I have are simple those - they are the weather and not the atmosphere.
I am writing now, a lot, and letting go of millions of expectations I have felt of myself both externally and internally imposed...I am letting of 'the image of me' - it's just crumbling. Somehow this seems more important than any ideological stance...it feels alive and well alive...
And so I cried when I heard the news that Osama bin Laden was killed. And that means...I don't know. I wonder if I will move back to New York. I wonder where I will be in a few years. I really don't know. Right now what's most important is my writing and my finding the last living relatives of my dead grandparents...
A couple days ago tracked down a lot of people and need to start writing letters...found the war death record of my grandmother's brother killed in a Destroyer by a Kamikaze at the battle of Okinawa. My grandfather worked on the Manhattan project - as an admin person...he was too small to go to war and changed his name at his boss's request because it was 'too Red' - those are the relatives I'm trying to track down and find out if they are related or adopted parents...so murky...
and I have a cousin once removed and her husband who are Palin supporters of all things...so I definitely need to talk with them and find out how on earth that works. My grandparents on that side were Nixon supports though, they were the hardcore who during Watergate said 'Ah, they're all liars, he just got caught.' And so he should have been left alone presumably.
The other side of my family are as virulent democrats, so there you have it...class/political warfare American style, internecine, irrational, angry...strains like viruses...apparently I, like most Americans, am a mutt...a conflagration (I use that word on purpose) of all of these strains...identifying with some, trying to damp down others and then they rise again...a crazy quilt of emotions and loyalties.
When I was young and living with my left-wing mother and 3rd father, I was a Republican and Baptist - no shit. I argued for this stuff pretty violently. I got over it when I was 16 and doing a history paper on Iran. It was 1979 and the hostages were being held in the embassy after the first big islamic revolution, and my history prof said why don't you check out the CIA's involvement in 1953, which being a good student I did...and all my political ideas changed...I saw the cynicism of US foreign policy and went ballistic (also used on purpose that word...), and turned into a left wing activist for many years after that. Like usual my timing was impeccable - in the 1970s when US was liberal, I was conservative, when US was about to go all Ray-gun, I turn into someone who my mother proudly told her friends was 'somewhat left of Mao'...in her circle, this was a good thing.
And now? I write a lot...I am sorting through a lot. I still hold non-violence as the highest ideal, even if I don't know if I'm capable of it. I know that I never want anyone to suffer what we did in NYC on 9/11 and I know the US has inflicted that type of suffering on others and that makes me sad. The UK too, don't worry I'm not delusional and think it's all crunchy granola over here, cause it's definitely Not. But I still vote in the US and am still American in the end...so feel more responsible for that.
It's a beautiful day here in London - blue skies, gorgeous just like on 9/11. I hope my neighborhood doesn't kick off today, it could. I will walk outside tentatively and see what the mood is. I hope there is not some big crackdown and helicopters everywhere. I hope that the young amazing people leading the various revolutions in the Middle East are the future - extraordinary courage, commitment for the most part to non-violence and an ability to die for a cause, simply to get out from under soul-destroying dictatorships. God bless them...whatever 'god' - I don't care I really really don't...
Oh please, this is my prayer to the universe or Whoever - let this day someone bring peace and not what I fear which is more violence...please let the US begin withdrawing from the places it has no business and and and.....you know, I know you know...I don't need to say these things out loud.
Sunday, April 24, 2011
feeling much better now
Hi folks,
Just a note to say that sitting through the blues has done the trick as usual...that and doing some writing and cleaning my office and enjoying the weather...also burned a bunch of papers that had to do with some counseling I did around my abortion a while back, and then planted the ashes underneath a plant a friend gave me in the garden. This felt right and like it unlocked some energy that was quite stagnant and had to do with lingering guilt and shame. Only afterwards did I realize it was Easter and somehow this seems appropriate as the counseling was by a lovely but somewhat Christian lady who I think figured the only way to recover from abortion is to repent. This was a weird situation and one I decided to walk through because of my Baptist background, and I think it was the right thing to do, but I think in some ways it made me feel worse, so the point is burning all the writing I did for that seemed right...releasing energy trapped in an unhealthy process and releasing the remnants of guilt and shame. And it worked, which is amazing.
Also, feeling more and more grounded by the day in what I am doing...sometimes feeling sad about the theatre company but then all I have to do is think about what I would be having to do right now to keep it going and then poof the regret is gone. It doesn't mean I won't do theater again but it does mean I'm done with this manifestation, and that's OK. Also realizing how many writing ideas I have and how many projects I want to work on so this is clearly the path...
Right now editing down the piece I posted here about my father's death. I may send it out for possible publication, and it would need to be half the length, so it's turned into an excruciating and incredibly good writing exercise to do this. I worked for about 6 straight hours on it yesterday and did not finish, but felt a sense of accomplishment somehow...I think I will need to do this mix of the long projects and the short ones.
So I'm basically feeling quite good, and in a simple way. Freer than in ages and like I'm doing what I'd be doing if someone told me I had terminal cancer. This is a very good feeling. Today was about cleaning on many levels and that seems right too...
Onward we go...feeling rooted in some firmer soil, amazing...I am just amazed...
Happy Easter! or Passover or Whatever it Is you celebrate...It's a lovely day.
Just a note to say that sitting through the blues has done the trick as usual...that and doing some writing and cleaning my office and enjoying the weather...also burned a bunch of papers that had to do with some counseling I did around my abortion a while back, and then planted the ashes underneath a plant a friend gave me in the garden. This felt right and like it unlocked some energy that was quite stagnant and had to do with lingering guilt and shame. Only afterwards did I realize it was Easter and somehow this seems appropriate as the counseling was by a lovely but somewhat Christian lady who I think figured the only way to recover from abortion is to repent. This was a weird situation and one I decided to walk through because of my Baptist background, and I think it was the right thing to do, but I think in some ways it made me feel worse, so the point is burning all the writing I did for that seemed right...releasing energy trapped in an unhealthy process and releasing the remnants of guilt and shame. And it worked, which is amazing.
Also, feeling more and more grounded by the day in what I am doing...sometimes feeling sad about the theatre company but then all I have to do is think about what I would be having to do right now to keep it going and then poof the regret is gone. It doesn't mean I won't do theater again but it does mean I'm done with this manifestation, and that's OK. Also realizing how many writing ideas I have and how many projects I want to work on so this is clearly the path...
Right now editing down the piece I posted here about my father's death. I may send it out for possible publication, and it would need to be half the length, so it's turned into an excruciating and incredibly good writing exercise to do this. I worked for about 6 straight hours on it yesterday and did not finish, but felt a sense of accomplishment somehow...I think I will need to do this mix of the long projects and the short ones.
So I'm basically feeling quite good, and in a simple way. Freer than in ages and like I'm doing what I'd be doing if someone told me I had terminal cancer. This is a very good feeling. Today was about cleaning on many levels and that seems right too...
Onward we go...feeling rooted in some firmer soil, amazing...I am just amazed...
Happy Easter! or Passover or Whatever it Is you celebrate...It's a lovely day.
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
the public and private dilemmas...
hey there,
So now I've made it more public letting go of my theatre company and it feels quite vulnerable and like i've given in to the forces of darkness or something. like I'm Cool Hand Luke and this time just gave up on the fight, so it's not a fun feeling.
I am continuing my writing, which is good, but also overwhelmed with how much I still have to learn in this arena. i've written one kind of thing and now doing something else, stretching way past a comfort zone so that feels vulnerable and scary too.
and i'm realizing again that of course being vulnerable, really being vulnerable is scary and uncomfortable. I think I used to believe in some kind of controlled vulnerability or something, but that's bullshit. So I am really out here now, really feeling naked and like I'm in one of those horrible dreams where you can't remember your lines or are naked or don't know what to do, except it's real. Scary.
I have had a huge realization though in the midst of all this massive uncomfortableness...(otherwise known in the English language as discomfort, but there you go...I'm such a writer...hmpf)...
- pause for skype conversation with husband in yet another foreign city - and back:
so the realization - is that the reason I ended up here in a place as weird as the UK, if you happen to be American and a writer and therefore used to a certain idiom that then makes no sense where you happen to live now, etc., etc...- is that I needed to get to the place I am now: no props or lighting effects to show me in a certain light of my choosing so you can like me and affirm me in a certain way, etc. In other words, it's up to me to generate my own oxygen. I think traditionally people have this realization when they are approximately 2 1/2 years old. I'm just 45 years late is all. There are reasons for that, but the fact is I missed that crucial stage of development and whilst embarrassed it's taken this long I'm relieved it's happened at all. This means perhaps I don't have to live my life as an unconscious codependent and can allow things to fall as they may...and that means me as well as other people.
There's a slogan in AA (there are lots of them and they sound dumb but they hide wisdom weirdly enough...) 'Live and let live.' I got the 'let live' part ages ago but I forgot the 'live' part, and so the 'letting live' was happening in bad faith with an unconscious wish for the person I was so 'generously' letting live to help me live. None of this was overt, stated or in any way asked for by me, except in this really underhanded (even to myself) way...this is the tricky bit about denial. It's actually denial. You don't know it until you know it. Scary shit. I find it excruciatingly embarrassing that it happens when I'm sober as well. OK, if you're drunk or officially a mess, but sober, in therapy and 'recovery', meditating, doing yoga, you name it and STILL this nonsense...but there you go. I think it may be called being human, but I also think in my case this change is crucial, and I am grateful for the realization.
So thank you UK for leaving me here bereft of my props, lighting, sound effects and clever little tricks... it's fucking scary but now I have a bat's chance of actually living. Life begins at 47 or whatever...
OK, got to get ready for yoga now. I hate going but I always feel better when I've done it...
So now I've made it more public letting go of my theatre company and it feels quite vulnerable and like i've given in to the forces of darkness or something. like I'm Cool Hand Luke and this time just gave up on the fight, so it's not a fun feeling.
I am continuing my writing, which is good, but also overwhelmed with how much I still have to learn in this arena. i've written one kind of thing and now doing something else, stretching way past a comfort zone so that feels vulnerable and scary too.
and i'm realizing again that of course being vulnerable, really being vulnerable is scary and uncomfortable. I think I used to believe in some kind of controlled vulnerability or something, but that's bullshit. So I am really out here now, really feeling naked and like I'm in one of those horrible dreams where you can't remember your lines or are naked or don't know what to do, except it's real. Scary.
I have had a huge realization though in the midst of all this massive uncomfortableness...(otherwise known in the English language as discomfort, but there you go...I'm such a writer...hmpf)...
- pause for skype conversation with husband in yet another foreign city - and back:
so the realization - is that the reason I ended up here in a place as weird as the UK, if you happen to be American and a writer and therefore used to a certain idiom that then makes no sense where you happen to live now, etc., etc...- is that I needed to get to the place I am now: no props or lighting effects to show me in a certain light of my choosing so you can like me and affirm me in a certain way, etc. In other words, it's up to me to generate my own oxygen. I think traditionally people have this realization when they are approximately 2 1/2 years old. I'm just 45 years late is all. There are reasons for that, but the fact is I missed that crucial stage of development and whilst embarrassed it's taken this long I'm relieved it's happened at all. This means perhaps I don't have to live my life as an unconscious codependent and can allow things to fall as they may...and that means me as well as other people.
There's a slogan in AA (there are lots of them and they sound dumb but they hide wisdom weirdly enough...) 'Live and let live.' I got the 'let live' part ages ago but I forgot the 'live' part, and so the 'letting live' was happening in bad faith with an unconscious wish for the person I was so 'generously' letting live to help me live. None of this was overt, stated or in any way asked for by me, except in this really underhanded (even to myself) way...this is the tricky bit about denial. It's actually denial. You don't know it until you know it. Scary shit. I find it excruciatingly embarrassing that it happens when I'm sober as well. OK, if you're drunk or officially a mess, but sober, in therapy and 'recovery', meditating, doing yoga, you name it and STILL this nonsense...but there you go. I think it may be called being human, but I also think in my case this change is crucial, and I am grateful for the realization.
So thank you UK for leaving me here bereft of my props, lighting, sound effects and clever little tricks... it's fucking scary but now I have a bat's chance of actually living. Life begins at 47 or whatever...
OK, got to get ready for yoga now. I hate going but I always feel better when I've done it...
Monday, April 11, 2011
Into the World! Scary...
Hey there,
a brief post to say that I have just sent out my first short story to a journal for publication. The last time I sent out a short story I was 14 years old and it was a Christmas story contest at our local newspaper. I won that contest and even received some money. Haven't had the guts since! Sent it to a publication I've read since the 1990s and never even dared dream would publish anything I wrote. I now feel nauseous. However, I have sent it out there, into the Big Bad World...scary, scary...
Wanted to say this out loud and hoping moral support will get me through the nerves of waiting for a response. Mostly, you have to submit these things to one place at a time. This means I have to have patience (ha!) and begin work on the big project I want to start and have photos all over my room to begin. Now just have to - well - start. And finish! I have 3, count them 3! unfinished novels sitting around. So, this one, I am scared of starting lest it end up in the Incomplete section as well...
OK, enough for now...enjoy the Spring!
a brief post to say that I have just sent out my first short story to a journal for publication. The last time I sent out a short story I was 14 years old and it was a Christmas story contest at our local newspaper. I won that contest and even received some money. Haven't had the guts since! Sent it to a publication I've read since the 1990s and never even dared dream would publish anything I wrote. I now feel nauseous. However, I have sent it out there, into the Big Bad World...scary, scary...
Wanted to say this out loud and hoping moral support will get me through the nerves of waiting for a response. Mostly, you have to submit these things to one place at a time. This means I have to have patience (ha!) and begin work on the big project I want to start and have photos all over my room to begin. Now just have to - well - start. And finish! I have 3, count them 3! unfinished novels sitting around. So, this one, I am scared of starting lest it end up in the Incomplete section as well...
OK, enough for now...enjoy the Spring!
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