I suppose (and I really do realize) it is a blessing to live in a world where people believe I can do more than I believe myself to be capable of. Because I live in a world of people who believe I am more than I am, it pushes me out of uncomfortable places into a better place.
I write out loud and in doing so, I put myself in a vulnerable position.
I write of my insecurities, my doubts, my feelings of inadequacy and when I start to feel overwhelmed.
I write when I am down. I write when I am up. I write when I am tired (that is dangerous territory). I write when I feel things. I write when I think I have discovered something. And when all else fails, I write about our cats.
It is a risk to write out loud.
I feel like I may alienate my friends when I write of how hard it is to walk outside of this door and interact with the world. I have friends who tell me they pull back from calling or writing or reaching out to me because they don't want to take something I don't have to give.
The thing about giving from that place of "having nothing", is that is exactly what fills me up.
I have felt depleted, drained, inadequate and taxed to the max lately. I have done my best to nurture myself and fill myself up with quiet, solitude and low expectations. I can also tell when I am saturated with that very nurturing which fills me up.
That is the point that is the most uncomfortable of all. I know I have to get up off the couch and move. No more excuses. It is the state of "doing" that starts to fill me up at this delicate part of the equation.
This week has initiated that phase of "getting up off the couch" and doing something. And I should know this from past experience but it always surprises me. Doing something is better than doing nothing. When you do find the energy to do, it is multiplied and you can accomplish more than you ever expected.
My list of things-to-do felt full of "hard things". But for each hard thing I do, the next thing becomes a little bit easier.
This week's task was to send off my columns to supply my editors with another month's worth of articles for their paper. It becomes harder each month. I have to do it quickly without over-thinking. I read something and if it feels like I have made a point worth sharing, I polish it up and send it off.
I did that job Tuesday afternoon and one short half hour after I hit the "send" button, one of my editors asked me to call when I had a chance. I had the "Oh no! I have been called into the Principal's Office again!!" feeling again. My writing has gone downhill and he was going to let me down easy. I "ripped off the band aid" and called him as soon as I read his message. This was no time to mull over the idea of why he wanted to talk with me.
It turned out, he just wanted to touch base with me and explain why my column hadn't been run for a few weeks. He planted seeds. He gave me a name and number of someone to call, who could help me promote my columns within our province's weekly papers. He planted the seed of compiling my "best work" and publishing a book.
He turned a scary moment into one of enlightenment and encouragement.
I have a few more "hard things" to knock off my list but I'm pushing myself out the door and headed to Mom's this weekend. In doing so, I have created a much-needed deadline to tend to some paperwork I've been helping Mom with.
My daycare has been undergoing some changes lately. It has been uncomfortable. Winter is coming and I am starting to panic. What will I do with these little one to three year olds when we can't spend hours outside? We will survive. We always do. But in the meantime, it has been hard to find the words to write my "seasonal" newsletter. One more "hard thing" sits on the back burner. I think I need to rip that band aid off as well.
I have to get myself back into the place where I believe in "me" enough to sell myself. Instead of quitting writing for my papers, I shall try to take on more. I need to find just one more friend for our daycare to help us through the long, cold winter. We need a "spark" of energy and new and fun added to our dynamic.
I need to find the words and energy to reach out to the friends I feel like I have alienated. I have friends who are so sensitive to the words I do and do not write. I have other friends who just tell me what I need to do.
I was floundering Monday morning. One of my friends told me exactly what I knew I had to do to push myself out of the moment I was in. I was thinking it all along. I would have pushed myself to do it. But who knows how long I would have sat in that place of such discomfort.
The place of "knowing" and "doing" is sticky and uncomfortable. It's a hard place to be. It feels wonderful to be climbing out of that hole. Again.
I've done it once, I can do it again. And I will need to do it all over again in a month or so.
This icky, sticky mess called "life" isn't always easy. We wouldn't appreciate the joy that follows the discomfort if it was always easy.