I'm buffering- imagine the slow mo circle made up of slim white lines on a black background that appear when the Wifi is dodgy or the the entire system is rebooting. It sort of feels like I am walking around without my pants on, like there is one missed step in the making that prevents any feeling of accomplishment or satisfaction, even if it is just completing an outfit suitable to run to the store. There's an ache in my heart (again) and a fog of doubt that I'm stuck in a rut, incapable of change, forever to be a boring, uninspired housewife with lots of potential but little follow through. Other words that come to mind. Failure. Fraud.. Dilittante.. How's that for raw?
These damn demons. When these voices show up at the table and pull the seat out from under me there are a few ways to respond. The therapist me would ask, "Why now? What's different in my situation? Let's look at the normative life stages." The meditator me would say, "Let's sit with this discomfort. These are beliefs, not truths. Find my aware self." The artist me sees this space as fodder and just prays that I will get my brush to the canvas, my pen to the paper, and physically express this boil of insecurity that's been festering. The mother me repeats the mantra, "Keep it together... Keep-it-together..K-I-T." So, who do I listen to? They all make valid points and have served me well in previous situations such as this. But between the recent and abundant anxiety dreams that have woken me up in the middle of the night to the "batten down the hatches" mode that was turned on this week due to the island's storm watch (potential hurricanes) and Dave's traveling, there needs to first be a forgiveness. .
Yes, I am in a fallow state creatively (note the forgiving tone). Yes, there is fear that my creativity will never return. Yes, I am momming at high administrative levels as I organize and pack up two kids for boarding school and complete the insane amount of USVI Bureau of Health paperwork required before my youngest can set foot on the campus of his new school. Yes, my heart aches because I am launching my daughter into young adulthood earlier than expected. Yes, all of the above is freakin' uncomfortable and my aware self can allow these rushes of hot air, wet tears, and heart palpitations to come and go as they please. This is all human stuff. I am human. Let's be humane to my humanness. Yes, HERE I AM; writing; expressing; popping the outer layer. And yes... sob... sniffle... smile... make dinner... watch Shazam! (I hated this movie the first time)... I love you.
This is the state of affairs. Of saying 'yes' to kids' schedules before my own- even if it is just binging on Lord of the Rings films. To tabling my art until I have a deep to dive into my canvases. To ricocheting between island time, ground hog's day and go time. "What now" looms on the horizon (the only thing that I have been able to paint these days). And there is this haunting sense of stillness before a storm that balloons underneath my skin, expanding and contracting with the heat of the day. The silence that opens the door to doubt as I recognize how this white page, a nest of my own making, offers me shelter to face the joy and dread that pulls and sighs within. A space both vulnerable and inviting, along with a nod to accountability. I see it now, 4 paragraphs later. The impending release of the "pause" button with everyone off to school or the office means that it's time to follow through on the original intention. It's time to write the reckoning.
(There, I said it/wrote it/claimed it to tame it.)
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