Wednesday, July 11, 2007

And the truth is...

Yesterday Alaskaboy and I were sitting at the table, enjoying the breakfast he had cooked. Two slices each of grilled cheese and tomato on toast.
We'd been discussing my inability to have a psychologist, any psychologist, answer or return my calls over the last two weeks--and whether or not this was a sign that I didn't really need one.

You see, these last ten days or so since I made my declaration that I was going to go out and get a real job and contribute to this family financially, I've had a major back step. All of a sudden I was weighing every few days, spending a lot of time doing avoidance behaviour and as a result I've put on 4-5lbs.

It doesn't help that since I've been losing weight and getting in touch with my feminine side that I'm actually noticing my ovulation symptoms. Twinges in an ovary, sore, slightly swollen breasts, with very sensitive nipples; which lead to fears of being unexpectedly pregnant. (This happened last month as well. THIS month I took a test. Negative.)

Then I discovered strange lumpy bumpies under my left armpit and panicked for two days straight...until I realised it's the fat breaking down. No longer firm but more like cottage cheese. And of course with less fat on my body I'm discovering all these muscles, and ligaments and other things under my skin as well. Like lymph nodes, milk ducts, bones, glands and things that really do feel weird when I've been used to feeling nothing but firm fat.

All this stress and anxiety about my physical self was great to hide behind. Plus the addition of mental anguish. Revelling in it was great!
But, that's not what's really wrong. Here's what's happeni--
Nope, nope, nope. Don't want to face that. Surely there must be something wrong with me, so I NEED to see a shrink.

During last week it pretty much all came to a head. Days of rage made for an uncomfortable existence. Finally the reason for the rage came bubbling out one night and I cried out to Alaskaboy and the universe. “I don't want to go out and get some part time job. I don't want to be a volunteer worker. I'm a writer. I want to write! I'm an author. But, I'm afraid you resent having to earn all the money.”

Yeah. That's right. I'd been feeling pressured into having to go out and get a “real” job and bring in the spondoolies.
My grandmother worked. My mother worked full time when we were growing up, and still works permanent part time. My husband works long hours. And I was using these as excuses to hide behind. None of them were putting pressure on me. Well, Mum was a little, but she was listening to what I was saying, and I was lying to her. I was the one putting all the pressure on myself to go out and work because I thought I should be working.

Alaskaboy's response to my heartfelt cry was, “I only resent it when you're not writing.”

. . .”Oh.” said I, in a very small voice. Then proceeded to cry some more. Why do revelations always lead to tears?

The following day I told my Mum the truth. And she was fine with it. I felt like a bit of a dork for all those months that I'd been dancing around it with everyone and implying that I wanted to go out and get a job.

But, oh, the agony now that I've fully committed to being an author. I'm having to face the fact that I'm doing this. I will be pouring my heart, soul, sweat and tears into this job, and there's a very real chance that I'll be rejected over and over again. Also, with the added bonus of no guarantee of ever being published, let alone making enough money to help out with household expenses.

Rejection. Real rejection of something I care deeply about. That's the real reason I have only been playing at being an author. Fear of not making the grade when I give 100% of myself. Schoolwork, sports etc have all come easily. If it hasn't come easy, I tried something else, or pretended like I gave my all, but when it failed, I knew I hadn't given it my best shot so it didn't matter as much. This time, I've been backed into a corner. And I did it to myself.

All this work; the intuitive eating, the positive affirmations, the digging deep to unearth the crud from the past and free the real me, has lead me to this moment.

I am a writer.

And admitting that has scared the shit outta me.

“Courage is a writer's best virtue.” Those are the words that are up on my wall. Right beside my head where I'll see them every time I sit down at the computer. I've had the courage to come this far. I've jumped off the branch boys 'n' girls, and now I really am flapping for all I'm worth. Now, it's up to me whether I go splat or I fly where'er my courage may lead me.

Where has it led me so far? As we were eating that yummy breakfast, Alaskaboy asked me, “When was the last time you had cheese and tomato on toast?”
And for the life of me, I couldn't tell him.
There was a time when I ate cheese and tomato on toast two or three times a week. Some weeks it was every day. It's always been one of my comfort foods of choice. So, for neither of us to be able to remember the last time I had it, best we can gather is several weeks prior, is a huge thing. And it made me realise, that even though I had a brief lapse into a form of comfort eating and denial these last few days, I've come a very long way from where I used to be.

Today, I promised myself that, in seven weeks, when it comes time for my yearly check up (which I missed last year) that I'm going to give the doctor a pleasant surprise with how healthy I am compared to my last check up. In order to do this, I'm going exercise my body by doing things I love to do, exercise my creativity and my mind by writing and learning cross stitch and doing puzzles, exercise my soul by continuing to feel my emotions and say my affirmations.

Surely, if I'm living to the best of my ability, then I'll amaze even myself with how much progress I can make? I know that seven weeks ago I was nowhere near as happy and content as I am now.

Here's to the next seven fabulous weeks!

2 Nibbles:

kathrynoh said...

Good luck. Are you part of a writers group? I think you mentioned something about it before. Just thinking that even if you are fully committed to writing, something outside of the house is a good way to ease the pressure.

Groovybabe said...

From one writer to another congrats on facing what you really wanted out of life and good luck with it.