No quote to begin with today. Quite frankly…I can’t bring myself to go searching. What is it with life and its lack of warning before it smacks your knee caps out from beneath you? Seriously…a little heads-up would suit me just fine. At least that would allow me to brace for the fall, or perhaps cart a first aid kit of ice-cream, cake and wine with me, for when things turn severely pear-shaped.
At the moment I have ‘Why-Me?’ syndrome. I’m sure you’ve all experienced it at some point in time.
Here I am trying take control of my life, get my head space back to a place where I don’t feel like I’m always on the brink, and another tummy turning bend, big or small, throttles me.
“Really…you’re telling me I got the wrong time and date for the appointment? I just drove an hour to get here!”
“Seriously…you’re telling me I’m surplus to your employee requirements! But I’m trying to pay off a housing loan!”
“Yes…I’ll be late. I have to hitch up my skirt and kneel in the gutter to change a flat tyre! Lucky me!”
“Holy shit…my thirteen year old has her first BOYFRIEND! And…his family is filthy rich and that makes me feel inferior and unsuccessful, which of course makes me self-involved and moderately mental for making this all about me.”
Bottom line, I feel like I’ve lost my way and I need someone to shake me and say “You see that little brick path over there. Yes, the super straight, no fuss, no drama, path! That’s the path you need to take. You’ll be sublimely happy and successful going that way.” I know where I want to go, but I don’t know how to get there. My GPS battery must be dead.
Unfortunately, when humans were given the gift of being able to ‘choose’ and ‘make choices’, we were not also given a road map plotting our most successful and logical path. Nor were we given a road map leading us towards sublime happiness.
But, so often I just want to slap myself for being so selfish. My idea of what trauma looks and feels like is plain nonsense in comparison to what some people experience. Yes, I’ve had a hellish couple of months, and yes I still feel a little residual uselessness because of that, but I have so much to be thankful for too.
I know these things for sure:
1. My daughter is my muse, she makes me laugh so hard I expect my sides to split. She validates my dreams and makes them feel possible and less ludicrous. She radiates happy, and that’s catchy; worth bottling.
2. I am proud to say my daughter is my most outstanding achievement. She has a brilliant and mature mind, is a phenomenal dancer, and is so sweet hearted and playful, too. These are not my victories to claim, they are her own. But I help her feel loved. I help her laugh and smile and face challenges with an iron will. And…I help her feel safe. These are my achievements and victories to claim.
3. My mother is the reason I regain my equilibrium; her to-the-point and spot-on advice is life-changing.
4. I experience a drastic loss of identity if I’m not chin deep in a writing project. A dancer has a stage. A musician has a concert hall. A director has a sound stage. And I have my screen and keys or an empty page to craft my prose. My creative space is where personal identity and passion have no choice but to grow.
5. I’m an excellent school teacher. I don’t always believe this, but I need to.
6. The universe both wraps me in happiness and tears me apart, limb by limb. And…it will always be this way.
My principal (I’m a primary teacher), said “Take control! You’ll be great!” Is this even possible when I’m unravelling like a spool of thread? Yes I can…the child inside me craves greatness. I’m not going to model mediocrity for my daughter. I’m not going to teach her to give in when things get rough.
In spite of the roller coaster I seem to always be riding, I shall find hope in my muse, and if necessary, I will write until my fingertips callous over, because I am a writer. I need to write. I want to write. And, I have to believe my future is paved with words. And because of this, I’ve finally taken the gigantic and terrifying step of enrolling in a writing course at one of Australia’s most prestigious arts school. Fear won’t cripple me…but it’s trying bloody hard, too.