everybody

It's blustery outside today. Storm, sunlit, with the fresh feel of Spring on its tail. The type of day that could blow the cobwebs out of your head if you'd just open up wide enough. Hope, and doable like scraps of paper, blown out of reach, but there, to see - and some days, that helps.

I've got no idea how to get started. It's been so long since I sat down and took myself seriously enough to be here. I've been rattling around in a life that seems too big for me for way too long now. I used to fill that space! I even overflowed it, on really good days!

I want to explain, I want to make sense of it - I want to get over it and get out! Part of me is screaming IT'S TOO SOON - YOU'RE STILL WAY TOO CLUELESS - TOO MANY LOOSE ENDS TO MAKE SENSE OF THIS!! And part of me, the quiet part, the little girl, she knows it's time. She knows I need to open up. She knows that this pain feeds on quiet - because it gets to be the only voice inside my head, keeping me in check. She knows the last bits of clean & sane know-this-about-me will mould without light. She knows I need air and wind and being naked. Yes. She's wise. And she's still there, so there's hope. (there's always hope, she says to me. she never tires of repeating herself when I'm off and deaf. she's plugged in, she sees these things much clearer than I do...)

I want to be poetic about it all - make it beautiful where it really stinks, but she tells me not to worry about how it sounds; and once again, she's right. Worrying about how it all sounds is what gets me here in the first place. It locks the door on me. It cuts me off from my gut, and from sanity, to put it dramatically, and that's always the beginning of the end.

This crap loops all through my life. I'd really love to say I'm getting better at handling it, but I'm not - not visibly, not obviously. And the time to get angry about that isn't - now. It's never. It isn't about getting angry, frustrated at what I'm doing to myself, although it always seems that way for the longest time; just kick your own butt, honey! that's all you need - a good whoopin' and you'll be right as rain. If you'd just get in gear and fit in, you'll be dandy and the world is right!

I'm scared of sounding too dramatic. I'm dead scared of being misunderstood. I'm scared of feeling like the only one who gets like this! I'm scared to throw myself out here, naked again. Really, really scared! But I need to. Because all this starts with feeling like I don't fit in, like I'm not good enough, like I'll never get it right - oh yes, elusive it, indeed! - and my first answer always is, to pull out. And I'm starting to think - okay, the little girl inside told me - that I'll never find glu for repair if I don't come out and show myself again.

Basically, it's really simple. Undone of pretty and sliced open, I was raised by a mother who Knows. I'm not here to vilify my mother. It doesn't help. Lessons learned are lessons learned, and in the end, the only thing that really counts is - how you learn to make up for it - how you learn to cope. I'm not here to excuse her, either, but I do know she wasn't out to get me. She meant well. She was - and is - just never flexible enough to realise that I needed to be right, at times, too. Because what I'm left with now is a broken compass. And way too much stock in what a fabled crowd of Other People think.

What I grew up with is this warped blueprint of how the world works: you do things right, you're good. You do things wrong, and this includes all versions of not-quite-right, you're no good, really. There is no manual for Good. There is no manual for Wrong either, but you catch on pretty quickly. You can gather it from a look, a word, a nod. There's a lot of disappointment involved, and you learn to apologise, because it's the quickest way to get on with things. And if you apologise this much, there must be something wrong with you to start with. That gets ingrained. Deeply. That feeling lasts. You hear 'I didn't say anything!', but you know that look and you don't need the words anymore. You weigh looks and gestures and you know. (have you ever considered you interpret too much? she asks, and yes I have. I have with hindsight. I know NOW. and it isn't necessarily too late to change - to learn to ask, but it's so hard to stop the damage mid-sentence, because I'm afraid I'll hear I was right; I'm wrong, and I really don't want to hear the words out loud...)

If I were asked to describe my way in this world, I'd go with tentative vulnerabilty. There is a lot I don't know. I know we all come from different families, different biographies, different circumstances - not to mention cultures, so I don't feel equipped to weigh and judge. And I don't want to weigh and judge. I like the surprise and the sense of wonder. I like making things up as I go along. I don't like carving things in stone, not being able to revisit, to re-examine, to try a different angle. I like to think, to analyse, and I like to brainstorm, to toss things into the air and see how they land. I don't know what was there first - finding a way to cope with being wrong pretty much anyway, or an innate curiosity, but this is what I'm left with. I'm tentative, I'm vulnerable, and I don't really know. I'm vulnerable because I talk about not knowing. I talk about not being sure. I talk about being wrong, re-assessing, trying again - I talk about that all the time. I talk about how hard life is at times, and how I don't know what to do to make sense, spin meaning, and I always hope for 'me, too!'

But I have quite a few People who Know in my life. People who are Sure. About a lot of things. They're sure about their parenting decisions, about what they'll eat tonight. About their politics, the colour of their underwear, their hobbies and how much time spent on those is reasonable. They're sure about their talents, their skills and their abilities. They know how to measure up, and how not to stand out in a crowd. They're awesome, they're good.

These are good, solid people, and I'm not here to vilify them, either. I know no one is that sure. I know that at least part of it is what I hear them say - because I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop, to be wrong, as I expect to be, at the bottom of things - and in part it's a - cultural thing? A contemporary thing? That we need to be seen to be sure? To show the world we know what we're doing? To have and hold opinions like they're our armour against change? I'm not sure (haha), all I know is, me and my open vulnerability, my lay-it-on-the-table attitude - when my solid ground starts sloping - I'm no match for their Knowledge.

I'm vulnerable because I expect to be wrong. And because I don't have a lot of worthiness in my back pocket on the best of days, let alone the slippery sloping days. I wasn't taught to carry myself, I was taught to - whatever you do, get it right. Without a compass. I don't have goals to fall back on when things start coming apart - meaningful stuff that will drag me out and up and into the light, because what I swallowed all those years ago was - life isn't about meaning, it's about not putting your foot wrong. It's about doing what's expected & about Knowing - being sure. I grew up thinking People Know. Hoping one day, I'd Know, too. Because Everybody Knows. Only really sad, silly, broken people - flawed, faulty, incomplete people don't know.

Some days - more and more days, longer stretches, it's important to remind myself of that! - when it's me and my gut and my brushes and my je ne sais quoi, and things are in place - I'm soaring with the best of them. I don't give a rat's ass about Knowing - knowing that I already do know on an instinctive, intuitive level that I'm alright, I'm okay, flying with my warts and who'll stop me?! But my gut gets clogged. It invariably does. Because I'm not necessarily heading somewhere - shouldn't I be headed somewhere - and shouldn't I Know?! As soon as I try to control being okay - hell, being Fabulous! - as soon as I try to tentatively, vulnerably explain it - as soon as I look up to make sure People see that I'm doing alright...

... that's when I see those looks, those gestures again. That's when I hear People telling me what to do, how they Know, how they got it covered, how their ducks are in a row. These People do a lot of their talking in my head. I talk for them. Inner mean chick does. She knows the drill. She knows when I'm ready to listen, and she takes no prisoners. She dresses like Everybody and digs in. I lose faith in myself and my gut, like I've always done in the face of Everybody, and I literally, physically pull back from the world. I stop seeing friends, stop answering emails, stop drawing, stop hanging out on Facebook, stop reading how everyone seems to have got it all figured out, and I don't want to hear about it either. I lock myself in with the one person who can make it all even worse: me.

For the past two months - give or take - I've been tearing strips off myself, reducing me to something not quite fit to feed a stray dog. All while fighting it, of course. It's been a war zone here - fighting myself for fighting myself for fighting myself. I've been playing footy with irritable bowel syndrome too, for the first time in my life - which is less than helpful when you're trying to trust your gut - but it's told me some truths by joining the party.

When you try to find your gut, your intuition, your I-know-a-few-things-about-me? Don't adjourn into your head. It's what I've always done - that's where the austere room lives in the world - but for the first time ever, I got feedback! It didn't help, and it still doesn't help just to know, but it's a serious clue about how to get out! And clues are good!

There are huge, gaping holes in this story. There are the things I don't know, things I'm not sure how to add up, things I don't want to drag up again, some good juicy examples of things that were said, and a good stack of things that would make this a book, as opposed to a long-winded blog post. One of the biggest holes is probably - why don't I throw everything at fitting in, if it matters that much?! All I can offer is - I think I tried that. Way back when. And it didn't work. I didn't get it. I didn't know what I was supposed to do, or what getting it right was meant to feel like - so I gave up. I think I decided at some point that it's - easier to come in from left-field, the element of surprise and all that - than to try and come in all dressed up, facing disappointment and a need to apologise. At least this way I could always claim they just didn't get it - even if it never really helped for long. Same fight, different coat - but it's how I 'coped' and I can't go back. At the bottom of the whole thing, it's always been about fighting the unfightable. Fighting myself for my sanity. Because it's about what I believe about myself, in the end, now that I'm all grown up. I'm not entirely clueless anymore, but I don't know everything. Ah. Elusive. I'm just not Know Everything-material. My personality can't handle it, my gut knows, but my head is stuck in the sand, ostrich-style. Or something. Holes, huh?

What I do know for sure, is that it's time to go out into the world again. Naked. Tentatively vulnerable with all I've got. And my brushes. I actually know at the bottom of all this - it's okay. I'm alright. I know more than enough. And the only way I can prove it to myself is if I go out in this raging storm out there and stay upright. One street corner at a time.

Do I like my personality? Do I want to change? Is it comfortable, not-knowing, and is there some sort of comfort in the falling, too? Some peace in knowing the enemy? I don't know. I'm forever much too close to this whole thing to claim clarity. What I do think is - I should get me one of those fabled Tribes, a gathering of Soul Sisters to keep me honest and on the straight-but-not-narrow - a new and improved Everybody to hear in my head and change my life! I LOVE reading about those, come across them all the time - great idea, too! Just one question: where do you get one?!

My story isn't all that unique. I don't come from unimaginably terrible things - I just live with a lot of harsh glaring lights and struggle, at times. So why do I get naked and share, anyway? Because I've been really lost, and really lonely lately. It helps, to write it down. It sort of feels like a fresh start, an opening to slip through - or the promise of one, at the very least.

And because I want to tell you - because we all need to hear it at times - 'oh yes, I get that. Me, too, sweetie. Me, too.' You don't have to say it, if you don't want to. I just want you to know you're not alone!

sensitive

I'm still upside-down. Picasso-esque. And I still think I see light ahead. But I haven't exited the tumbleweed tunnel quite yet. I'm vulnerable, still. 

Mostly, when I get here, my intention is to get things straight for myself, in the first place. Writing it down, as if trying to explain it to someone else, it helps. A lot. I gain clarity and insight from pouring the chaos in my head into a story line - knit beginning, middle and ending to what unwritten remains - mayhem. And I really, really appreciate the comments - more than you'll know.

But I don't have the courage nor the head space to write a blog post today. A huge part of this half of my personality - yes, dramatic; the shoe fits - wants to turn on the apologetics. She wants to blog about fluffy clouds. Not blog about that, per se, but be about that. While I know I ain't about fluffy clouds even on good days. When I know deep-down that I wouldn't want to be about fluffy clouds, especially on good days. But that's the extend of it right now. This is where I was, this is where I still am, and whether I kick and scream or fight it, this is what I have to wait out - whether I want to (I don't), or not.

But enough. I don't have the words to make more sense of this than I did before, so I won't try. I'm here, because I want to share something that almost made me cry this morning. And maybe when you read this, it might help you too. I hope it will. It makes sense to me, and I know I'm not the only one who gets like this. It sounds wrong, but it helps me, to know that. To know that you know what I mean when I hang out, when I feel tied up where I'm not. 

I'm reading a book. And it's eye-opening. I'm not big on labels and conditions, but I want to get a grip on this crap. Desperately. So while the title of this book put me off for the longest time, eventhough a very trusted close friend recommended it to me, I finally dove in. And it's - just so true. It's hard work to get deep with it, and I'm not getting that exactly right, quite yet, but when it comes to naming the feelings I've lived with for so long, when things get bad and when I'm on an almost unnatural high - it's spot-on, and I feel so... understood!

The book is The Highly Sensitive Person, by Elaine Aron, and while I'm not ready, at all, to bend it to words for myself, let alone here, I really want to share this (in my edition, soft cover, Element, HarperCollins, 2003, it's on page 62-63). It's sort of a - note to self from the inner child. And it's precious. If you're anything like me, it might touch you, too... 

1. Please don’t make me handle more than I can. I am helpless when you do this, and I hurt all over. Please, please, protect me.

2. I was born this way and can’t change. I know you sometimes think something awful must have made me this way, or at least made me 'worse', but that ought to give you even more sympathy for me. Because either way I can’t help it. Either way, don’t blame me for how I am.

3. What I am is wonderful - I let you sense and feel so much more deeply. I am really one of the best things about you.

4. Check in on me often and take care of me right at that moment if you possibly can. Then, when you can’t, I can trust that you are at least trying and I won’t have long to wait.

5. If you must make me wait for my rest, please ask me nicely if it’s okay. I’m only more miserable and troublesome if you get angry and try to force me.

6. Don’t listen to all the people who say you spoil me. You know me. You decide. Yes, sometimes I might do better left alone to cry myself to sleep. But trust your intuition. Sometimes you know I am too upset to be left alone. I do need a pretty attentive, regular routine. But I’m not easily spoiled.

7. When I’m exhausted, I need sleep. Even when I seem totally wide awake. A regular schedule and a calm routine before bed are important to me. Otherwise, I will lie awake in bed all stirred up for hours. I need a lot of time in bed, even if I’m lying awake. I may need it in the middle of the day, too. Please let me have it.

8. Get to know me better. For example, noisy restaurants seem silly to me - how can anybody eat in them? I have a lot of feelings about such things.

9. Keep my toys simple and my life uncomplicated. Don’t take me to more than one party in a week.

10. I might get used to anything in time, but I don’t do well with a lot of sudden change. Please plan for that, even if the others with you can take it and you don’t want to be a drag. Let me go slow.

11. But I don’t want you to coddle me. I especially don’t want you to think of me as sick or weak. I’m wonderfully clever and strong, in my way. I certainly don’t want you hovering over me, worried about me all day. Or making a lot of excuses for me. I don’t want to be seen as a nuisance, to you or to others. Above all, I count on you, the grown-up, to figure out how to do all of this.

12. Please don’t ignore me. Love me!

13. And like me. As I am.

Chicken soup for my troubled soul. Wise, wise words. Will you let me know if they touch you, too?

waiting

Curves, right? I love curves! I love soft, glowing, stretching! Colourful curves! My own feminine curves - sure, why not?! & I'll take Ireland - rolling and green. But my mind is more like a Picasso at his most cubist - upside down & all. Yes, I've got a flair for the dramatic - working on it - and as far as metaphors go, this one is a stretch, even for me ;) But I travel rugged terrain at times, & I get lost.

When I wrote about waiting for the next curve, for life to veer back to me, that's true. I don't mean I stop everything, get a nanny, a cook & a cleaner and find a quiet spot to suspend - I know full well that I need to be available for the curve. Whether the curve finds me, or I find the curve, it happens inside my life; not on a mountain top or in an attic room. I have suspended myself for about 10 years, so I know this. When you hide from life, Fabulous can't find you. I'm living proof - to myself if to no one else - that you can untie yourself, finally, eventually. But it's a ridiculous effort, and it costs, and I don't want to do it again.

But I do wait. While life goes on. I don't wait for wisdom, or insight - I know by now the truest stuff clatters onto your life path when it bloody well feels like it - much like Fabulous, quite unbidden. And it falls inside your life. It doesn't come haloed, with a free retreat (yes! The rolling green hills of Ireland, please!) to practise welcoming it, unwrapping your own version of picture-perfect upon returning home. No. It comes and you leave it where it fell - almost unseen because it doesn't fit quite yet - or you pick it up, take it in and try to wrap yourself around it - all while ironing an evening meal onto the cleaned table. High heels optional.

But still, I wait. While life goes on, because I've got an awesome 4-year-old who doesn't wait, for no man, nor his mamma. And I'm so, so grateful for that kid, because I can't adjourn myself. And he makes me laugh out loud of course, and he makes me angry, and he makes me feel clueless and fun and he makes me want to throw my hands up in despair, and he makes me feel alive! I'm living lives in my days, and although this isn't about the boy, and he's got no responsibility to keep me sane, he does, inadvertently. And he rocks. Because and solidly despite.

But I'm waiting, nonetheless. While I live, care, draw, do laundry and talk to fellow moms at the school gates, about nothing in particular. I wait for zest and juicy to come back. Yes. I know. Curves. I know life isn't all awesome and Flow and Fabulous. I spent enough time observing life from a lay-by to know that the fast lane kills. But somehow, and I haven't figured out the why or the how quite yet, I never dip to cruising speed; my engine splutters and I swerve! Not quite into oncoming traffic - not much, not always, anyway - but it feels like I'm going the wrong way all of a sudden. Like nothing makes sense anymore. Like an alien inside my own skin, inside my own daily, unchanged life. Like I said, my moods, my je ne sais quoi? I curve Picasso-esque! When Fabulous leaves, comfort leaves in her wake. Is that crazy? Pathology, anyone? Wait! Don't answer that ;) This is my life, wonky as it gets at times, and the skipping little girl-part of me doesn't want to know, she just wants to learn to deal!

So I wait and wear daily routine as a life vest of sorts. Holding on to what I know matters, even if I can't feel it then and there. Going through the motions. Trying to stay afloat while mild to moderate panic and despair wash over me, and nothing feels quite good enough to keep me grounded where I know I live. I can't pinpoint where it starts, or why - eventhough I think I know at times. In the end, it feels like everything. Like I lose the healthy filters between me and my world and everything washes over me. I feel defenseless - I don't know what's important anymore, so everything becomes weighty and serious. While I still deep-down know I don't need to quit or give up on anything I'm learning to embrace as solidly me and beautiful, I can't touch that knowledge and it takes most of my energy not to let go, to wash out; change my skin and start over again, being who I'm not - apologise.

This cycle is familiar. I'm just starting to recognise it, but the truth of it feels old, well-worn. Like it's always been like this. Not Fabulous, she's still quite new - she introduced herself when I emerged from where I wasn't. But how I lose my rhythm, my song, how I disappear - even now that I'm generally - really - quite comfortable inside my skin and my life? Old, old fabric, right there... From Fabulous into hiding. Never past go to collect salary or a soft pillow to land. Straight into that austere place where I can't quite grasp where or why I matter anymore. Until it passes. Because it does. An unmarked doorway, unobtrusive - corner-of-the-eye stuff, never there when you look for it? I don't know. Hindsight, looking back, I can never see how I came to that place nor how I left there. It just - unhappens. It dissolves. So yes. I wait until it does.

So I know this, about myself. I disappear. I go where I need to go, but I can't go out of my way. I've known this for a long time, and I have a grudging understanding for it - for no other reason than the fact that it comes and it hangs out, regardless. But I'm not okay with it. I can't stand shapeless things! Of course I've always poked and prodded, tried to turn it inside-out. Because it bites me where I'm trying to be soft! It feels like everything I've learned about being me, everything I'm learning to accept, to laugh about, to respect or to cuddle, suddenly becomes moot. Ridiculous, weird in a faulty, flawed way, all over again - until it isn't anymore. Until I'm back, re-hinged, oiled & in working order. Just like that. Everything that gained weight till it mattered becomes ridiculous in turn and I'm made to look like a fool in my own eyes till I smile, grin, laugh out loud and shrug.

I'm waiting my way up and out right now, and I think I see light ahead. About time, because I've been here for weeks. I'm reporting from the inside, and it's hard. I've been writing and rewriting this for days. But it's important. It feels important. To remember this when it takes flight again  - the whole thing, as it is, not the snippets in my journal; those just reflect the quality of frustration, yellowing before the ink is dry.

This is a wart. A big one. One that's been colouring my life for as long as I can remember - now that I allow myself to really look. And I have an inkling about it. The first idea that I might not have to just accept and live with this, for ever, just the way it is. Something about the why of the whole thing. Something really changes once you start looking at yourself as essentially okay. Even when you feel like you're solidly not. Stuff that I always saw as proof for not quite, suddenly becomes the raw material of who I already am. It feels like - somehow - I just need to translate this. The little girl inside has been telling me this all along, but it's taken me long to listen: I need to find out how to DEAL. 

I need to find out how to deal, because after all this time, after everything, I refuse to accept that I'm faulty, flawed, or even weird. How's that for a salty truth?! I'll go with intense. I'll give you that. Because I don't believe it's a flaw - it's a trait, and one that I'm okay with. One that I'm starting to value even! On good days, of course ;)

I'm intense, and I'm open. And I don't know how to hit the breaks. I don't think I have to change, pull up my guards - I'm learning to like myself and my honesty - but I need to learn to break - get quiet and assess. Before Picasso breaks for me and everything turns wonky. And this is new and tentative, but I think I can learn to save myself - before I fall apart. And knowing that this comes from the bottom of the barrel and I'm all naked in there, shouting anyway? As a woman in progress, I think that means there is truth in it. And hard work. Yes, that too ;) But I'm good with that - there's courage and hope in finding something to work with!

So how are you?! Do you know how to break?

resigning

I've been walking around with my head in the clouds lately. Everything felt gorgeous! Things weren't smooth, necessarily, but the yeahs outweighed the what's-its for weeks! Fabulous! She came out of nowhere and waved magic around me!

And now, all of a sudden, walking in high-heeled shoes just doesn't work anymore. I put them on, I lean in, but it doesn't make me smile. The awesome is gone. I put them on to practise, and frankly because I want to hang on to amazing, but it doesn't work like that. That much is clear. I'm trying! In fact, I'm wearing them right now! But Fabulous has left. Leaving me trying to grab, hold on - knowing I can't win. Not like that, anyway.

This is tentative, at best, but I'm thinking it's all inside the difference between feeling it and trying to ride the wave. Living it, as opposed to trying to grab the story line, holding on to it for dear life. Going about your life with feeling, and letting Fabulous find you as you are. Warts & all, of course.

Somewhere along the line, by the wayside of talking about Fabulous, I forgot to feel her where she lives. I'm not all that familiar with Fabulous quite yet, but here's what I'm finding out; she needs to be felt. She doesn't like to be cemented. She doesn't want to be caught or captured, she likes to be free. She'll stay as long as you feed her, but you can't talk her back on the couch with you. 

And that, quite honestly, sucks! Because I talk! I've spent my life trying to capture and catch, trying to hold on and keep! My relationship with flexibility is new, and anything but flexible quite yet! I've always lassoed words around everything, knitted stories around what's up. Never mind that it didn't really work in any long run, ever - the point is, I'm slap-bang in the middle of the pradigm shift of a lifetime, and right now, I really feel the depth of neither here, nor there, quite yet!

Some stuff happened. That means, in this instance, that a can of worms was re-opened and I've been thinking about my womb again. I wish I could just say don't DO that, then!, but that would be too easy (because I can see a future road of Regret stretch out before me - mirage-style - if I let this whole thing lie where it's sleeping). So it's a good thing, I think. There are things you can't put off for too long. You can't leave them lounging in the back of your fridge, because no matter what their shelf-life is, at some point they will grow fuzz and legs and jump you. When it's least convenient. Yup.

But I was doing so well! I was hanging out with Fabulous, and we liked each other! And the crap thing about cans of worms? You can never just grab one worm and eat it with ketchup. When you start pulling, there's always a tangle of them, and they're never quiet and thoughtful and patient. They don't listen to reason. They mess up the kitchen you just cleaned in your awesome red boots and what you want to do is - you want to scream and send them packing. Stuff them back. Anything to keep Fabulous around! Anything not to have to go anywhere with the worms!

But what you need to do is - sit down in a puddle of sauce, right then and there, worms everywhere, and resign. Give up fighting to keep Fabulous where she feels she isn't wooed, and regroup.

It's really hard for me to hold on to what's going well, what's feeling good and wholesome and right when there are worms screaming at me from the opened fridge, but that's something I do need to learn. I need to listen to the worms and hang out with Fabulous. Maybe not quite at the same time, but I need to learn to be bendy around both. 

It's hard not to drown in never quite good enough - again. It's hard not to tell myself see, you tried, but it didn't last - we always knew you'd fall of your perch, didn't we?

But in the end, the only person deciding whether I'm good enough to run with my warts, in heels, juggling worms, pencils, my kid, my reproductive organs, my online presence and my social life - is me. Inside my life - though other people might have opinions - I'm the only one who can say I am enough and run with that, see where it takes me.

So I'm here, gathering courage again. The courage to sit down. To resign and to let the worms do their dance. To bravely show life my open palm; come sit with me. We might not always be best friends, but we can have coffee, right? I'm enough, warts & all, and I'll have you sit with me just the way you are today, too; let's just see what happens when we don't fight or try so hard to sort it all out, between us!

It's a lot like my yoga practise these days. I often find myself thinking that this isn't comfortable, I don't like this! But then I tell myself - it isn't about being all cool with the stretch, it's about the stretch. It's about being there, even when it's uncomfortable, and hanging out with that.

Yes. Like I said, I talk well. So I'm off to lean in now. And while that might prove a whole lot harder than writing about it, I'm doing it, anyway.

See ya, Fabulous! I know you'll be back, and I'll be here. Sauce on my chin, worms in my hair, but I'll be here. Wearing my stupid heels!

** those hands were drawn for Koosje's course, and I LOVED doing them! After a whole lot of procrastinating and I can't do this! I don't DO people, I don't DO body parts! ;)

Koosje is a super teacher, her course is still working magic, even if the heels and Fabulous don't! It seems like resigning was the message all along, this week. And if I can draw hands like this, dealing with worms should be a piece of cake, right?! Hahaha ;)

comfort

8 days - interesting ;) I set my goal for a blog post a week, and for the past 4 weeks, I've ended up flying in a day late. I'd love to say that's unusual for me, but it's not. Back when I was in the mud, I was always on time, and I'd come to identify with that. I have always thought of myself as punctual, but I'm not! Just another wart I'm learning to embrace ;)

It's all tied to my relationship with time. Most things are, in the end. Whether it's about meeting someone on time (including getting my kid to school and picking him up again...), forgetting time and getting carried away, being aware of time when I know there's something I've got to do and let that get in the way of forgetting time, or the tension when I try to get 'it all' done - time is an issue. Relationships are hard work, and this one is no different. I'd love to say I'm here because I've figured it all out, but I'm not. I'm just complaining ;)

I've had a crazy week, but a juicy one! A different approach to much of everything I do on a daily basis - because I did most of it in heels :)

These heels :) I even took them outside for shopping! Once. Only once. So far. It was hard! It was hard, and funny :) I smiled almost the whole way out and back, because I felt so unable :) I was stumbling on them - I'm pretty sure there was nothing sexy about me trying to get around on them - but I loved it! Because I felt so unable!

After going through life for a while, we get comfortable, right? We've got our routines, and it works, so why mess with it all? I'm right there with you. I'm all about learning curves and - when trying to embrace who I already am, including the warts - there are many of those; but then there are the normal things, the day-to-day stuff that's working, and because there are so many challenges all over the place anyway, why challenge the stuff that's good, the things that are in working order, the things that are solid just the way they are?

No need to do that, of course. At all. But I found myself with these heels this week; these heels and a promise made to my 4-year-old :) So I was going to practise. And everything routine became a challenge just like that. There was no conscious decision to smile about it all - of course, that would have been the Zen way, and I'm not really there quite yet ;) - but it just sort of happened! These heels and my inability made me laugh out loud :) Especially when I decided to go out in them and buy eggs :D

There is nothing wrong with comfortable. And if time is an issue, being fine with the routine way I do many of the recurring household chores is perfect. I'm not challenging you or myself to do something different when it's working, and I'm not saying you're boring when you do the laundry wearing pyjamas - at all! Some of the mundane daily stuff is boring and has to be dealt with swiftly so we can get on being succulent and wild elsewhere!

But these heels; this actual, literal walk outside my comfort zone - there is a parallel to the way I'm leaning into me and the warts, the way I challenge myself to embrace the things I can and can't quite do! That's why wearing them is so juicy eventhough - no, because I still look quite ridiculous trying to walk as if I can ;)

It reminds me, quite forcefully, quite literally, that there are many things I could still learn to do - things that are solidly outside my current comfort zone! That I have many muscles that are underused, but there for the training, if I choose to do so! That it's all in the choices, really - whether I want to stay comfortable where I am comfortable, or whether I want to spice it up a little! I'm learning to stand tall in who I am - that's inside my whole Warts & All theme. And it's hard. But those heels show me that I can do it - beyond what happens when wearing heels when you're 5'11" ;) It's really just a matter of training the muscles that will help me stretch to the full extent of who I am :D

I've been challenged to go outside my usual by Koosje and her absolutely awesome ecourse as well, over the past two weeks! Last week was all about graphite, this week we've been working with coloured pencils :) This post's drawings were done as assignments :) I'm having so much fun, drawing outside my home-made box, learning new skills, and yes, working underused muscles ;) After a week of coloured pencils and heels, my whole body hurts - and I'm not kidding! Maybe I'm taking this all a little too seriously? Hah, probably. Apparently I can be quite unstoppable outside my comfort zone ;) Because I might not be hanging out where I thought I was most comfortable, these days, but a zone it still is! There is flow, when I travel - energy in new paths! I really had one crazy week :D

The only thing all this doesn't do, is change my relationship with time for the better. I get carried away, take more time than I have, especially for the mundane & routine. But somewhere, I'm convinced - for now, quite conveniently ;) - that's a good thing. I can work on that, later! I'm saving it for boring times ;)

Big X to Koosje & my kid :D For making things so interesting, and juicy :D

What are you up to these days?

permission

I have made so many conscious attempts to be here more that I've lost count... And I have finally made a dent in - figuring out why it hasn't been happening. It's about fear. The fear of showing myself out loud and finding no one who cares. To meet shrugs. That's what's stopping me. This old, well-worn idea that being me and everything I bring is nothing to write home about. It's subconsious, and it's been sneaking up on me, but there it is...

Over the months, it's been harder to get here. I've been up to - much, in my head. I've been growing, soul-searching, drawing, changing some patterns, and thinking about all the above. I've been doing a whole lot of grieving, too. The hard stuff I wrote the monster post about; the way my life changed - as lives do - and the need to grab a hold of the stuff I say matters. Figure out what really does matter, and how I want to live it! What I want to show of it, what I want to be honest about, and when to basically stop babbling. And what to do when I do shut up! I've been everywhere, travelling long roads inwards - but I haven't been out, much.

I miss it. Being out. Meeting up with friends to talk and draw, to walk and talk, to hang out in coffee shops... Meeting friends online, reading blogs, hanging out in that virtual coffee shop, too. I feel like I've lost my voice, a little. Because I've been afraid to talk out loud. I've been hanging around with the wrong crowd and my inner critic a little too much for the past half year. I won't say that some things haven't changed for the better, I've had a couple of meaningful heart-to-hearts - but mainly with myself - inner dialogues & long monologues where the other side of me merely nodded and grunted in all the right places. I've spent some time slaying dragons, and trying to put my mother-issues to bed. I've dusted some shelves and figurines - broke a few, too. Shelves and figurines. But at some stage, enough really is enough, and you need to get out. Get it out & all. Get your courage on and be. Out loud, that is!

I've spent a lot of time thinking about blogging more. Thinking about re-invention and direction and change. But my blog is called Muddle On Through for a reason. That's me, that's who I am, that's what I do. I could pretend otherwise, but only for a while, and it would feel like a lie. I would love to be known for my wisdom - for how I grab life and don't let go, but if that's what you're looking for here, you have to read between the lines at times; find the truth where it resides for you. I suppose it's more likely that I'll be known as honest and human. Warts and a tendency to over-think. Shrugged about, perhaps, but the question is whether that matters, deeply. Whether it changes who I am. Because that old shoe fits, and I'm learning to be okay, to bend with the truths of me. I'm not as flexible as I'd like to be, that's a truth, too. But I'm working hard on not breaking quite as much anymore. And you'll find my purr-mode in working order when you least expect it!

I'm not challenging anyone but myself to stick around, of course. My blog was always going to be about who I am and what I make - whether that's sense, a mess, or art - so I'm pushing through this idea that I need to change course in order to blog. I'll stick with what I know & who I am. No more imagined apologies for posts never written because I'm worrying who will care.

I'm renewing my vows to document what makes me tick. To be like that if that's the mood that shows. Whatever the mood that shows. To show my warts, my art and my je ne sais quois. This is where I learn to bend, and where I'm breakable. This is where I take up all the space I need. Where I clash with the décor. Where I'll try to be all that I already am.

So I'm welcome here. That's my 2013 gift to myself :) And you are more than welcome here, too! With warts of your own - whether you're ready or willing to share or not. You're so welcome. It really is lovely to have you!

& here's a question for you:

If we all really are our own solid ground in this mayhem called life, what does yours look like? This is mine! For now ;)

2013

Here it is, January 3rd: my New Year's wish for you - and for me!

be you

I know I used more words in the illustration, but in the end, that's what it boils down to. Nothing else, that's it. I feel it's about time - for me, anyway - to stand tall and wear it on the outside. To be proud of who I am, and to start owning my warts. To no longer wait until I've grown beyond 'not quite there yet' - but to make it happen with what's there; here, in me and within reach! Because there's plenty to work with, right there! Me and my warts, we'll go a long way once we start working together - I'm sure of it!

Of course this means stuff. About putting myself out there, about being honest, about what it is I do exactly, and what I want to share... I'm not altogether clear on it all - quite yet. But I've cut myself some slack. I didn't need to have the past year wrapped up - bow on top - by the 31st of December, and I didn't have to have this one all mapped out by January 1st! How's that for going with my warts, leaning in and being gentle?!

There is more where this came from, but not right now. I just needed to be here, before the first week of this New Year is gone. Because not having it all figured out quite yet doesn't mean I can't just show up. And be. Here. Warts and all. To wish you the best year yet! A happy, inspired and creative year. And to wish for you to come out and be you. I think you're gorgeous!

39

This New Year? 
Not to constantly feel the tugs - big and small - that I SHOULD be things I'm not, but to finally be who I AM.
Yes. Warts & all.
Basically? I want to YAY my warts this year :D


P.S. this is a cut-out from a collage I did back in January. Note to self - and to YOU! - cutting and pasting random words from magazines, composing wisdom by accident, is a great way to cut loose from the crap in your brain ;)