Tonight I think about what it means to live a convenient lie or an inconvenient truth. We all tell lies of convenience, to ourselves mainly, in one form or another. I have lied my way thru addiction, codependency and bad relationships. There have been the failed business attempts, the grandeur gestures of Motherhood to overcompensate the days I cannot be in my kids day to day lives. It is an inconvenient truth to admit at 36, again, I am recovering from another failed relationship, am flat broke, trying to climb my way to Spiritual and Financial freedom, but can I say it’s different this time? I can. I can say that looking at my truths or hiding behind them don’t change the situation I am in at all. But, truth has a mysterious key to self fulfillment. Steps to take action, for healing, for living become glaring in comparison to hiding behind a mask for acceptance or approval. That life is exhausting. Do people poke and prod and exchange glances or put their own sense of doom on top of you? Sure they do. But, I can handle it. It is humbling, rewarding and gratifying to live in the light of who you are, mistakes and all, inconvenient or not. It is the difference between stumbling through a dark house or having lit cinnamon candles and little fairy night lights plugged in the girls’ rooms. The day to fully lit rooms full of sunshine and guidance may or may not appear, but I am light on my feet and welcome my little steps of inconvenience, either way.
The blog I wrote called, “90 Days to Follow Your Bliss” was my first post written after drinks with M and JC, a soulful night that inspired each of us to commit to a diet that included living in our joy and finding true bliss. We decided over clinking martini glasses that following your bliss has to be an authentic process, a choice to live from joy, an inner and very personal set of truths that needed to be rediscovered, a road map to lead us home. I listened to M and JC quietly and I knew I had called this experience to myself, that I was exactly where I was supposed to be. I never have been a girl who believes in coincidences.
I had been thinking a lot about my life lately, in the quiet moments of my day, driving to work, after the girls are in bed, at the gym. It was a process of becoming aware of things I had been hiding from myself, and it was hurting me, like waking to a raging hangover, searching for Advil only to find bright sunlight, irritating thoughts, and misplaced sunglasses. Truth became like water, and I was looking everywhere else to quench my thirst.
I am a lover of life, laughter, and fun. Inspiration calls me and when I am in my magic, I am fearless, creative and awake, my days filled with chill bumps, colorful characters, and a deep sense of peace that all is right, not because the people in my life say so, but because I say it. I am living in my truth and my cup overflows.
The hurting has come here to help me, while I have been cursing and kicking like a spoiled child. It is my way, this rebellion, and I don’t like its questions, assumptions, and my ego says it has no place in my life. And yet, even a rebellious prideful woman like myself eventually breaks, remembering that I am a lover of the light, a fact I never have been able to escape.
Embracing light means making friends with the hurting, asking it to show me what I am here to learn, a humble and desperate breaking indeed. I have been shown that so much of my life has become one of survival, a daily routine where all my decisions stem from fear and chaos. I will myself through long hours for cash tips, worry over car troubles and bills, find release at the gym from the daily anxiety of a family shattered, holidays that lost their joy, a mother who lost her will to live, a daily reminder that the woman I loved the most may never come back to me. There are days I watch her just disappear before my eyes. I had closed myself off to the real possibility of love, dating men who I knew would never break me wide open, a fact that made me feel safe, and yet, always alone. I had made the decision that my dreams for my life had lost their time, a life of hard work was what I must deserve, and the joy I have in my girls kept me going, their beautiful faces making it worth getting up to start all over again.
Until now.
I listened to JC and M describe what they need to follow their bliss. As they talked, a funny thing happened. The hurting stopped. I felt a wave of hope and relief, and my old friend inspiration was finally back, stopping back to ask me on a 90 day diet, asking me what makes me dream, telling me to be as selfish as I want, to not hold back, to be fearless, to remember who I used to be and always will be, to let these women witness what you have dared to dream, hoped to one day become.
My bliss for me meant writing every day, pursuing the Creative Circus for photography, which would take balls to even think I could be accepted, much less get the financial aid I need, the help for my kids, and to work. I would need to make daily goals and see them through, to stop seeing the closed doors and look for the window, to start believing my family will heal, to let go of the control I never had to begin with. To follow my bliss means to open my heart as well, to have spontaneous fun and believe in love, to be raw and honest, to face my fears, and have some overdue mind blowing sex.
I have been very surprised at what I have discovered, probably only 30 days into our 90 day diet.
I started writing this blog.
I have made a lifetime friendship with Clyde.
My family has supported me and missed me, revealing how easy it is to sabotage life when we make assumptions and sacrifices, believing it will bring approval.
I have had every ugly fear rear its head with full force, non stop.
I have a blind date.
I am being paid to photograph a wedding of a friend.
And lastly, with my stomach in knots, today I will be officially be handing in all the requirements, a process in itself, and will be waiting an answer from the Creative Circus, a two year program I believe will change my life personally, professionally, and financially.
I believe now that I am following my bliss, dreaming big, and I have absolutely no idea what I am doing, what will result, or how I will change. I am opening my closet door to the monsters, yelling at them to come on out from under the bed, waiting for the sky to fall and lightning to strike. As far as the hurting, I am amazed that the thing I hated and tried to kill always came from a place of love. I have tried to escape it, beat it, kill it, numb it, and may always will, but the beat only gets stronger, the message more powerful to deliver. When I feel it now, I try to place my hand over it, knowing it is part of me, a part of God, and the thing that I thought might kill me, well, it just might set me free.
Forget Your Perfect Offering 