Story time

Rarely is my life not in some state of upheaval. Thankfully, when my shit is on really straight and I’m not bitching about it, I thrive on change which means I’ve learned to make some damn fine lemonade. Lemonade aside, though, I’ve established a pattern of bitching more often than not (whether this takes place in my head or with my outside voice) and allowing the upheaval to dictate my life and schedule, not to mention temperament. I’ve resisted embracing the concept of thriving on change out of fear for sending out a message to the Universe to keep it comin’ and thereby never attaining a sense of stability. The thing is, when I deny parts of my Self (like thriving on change), the result is usually a hot mess. Through denying this particular part of my Self, I essentially get plowed by the wave of change and end up bruised and exhausted on the beach of whatever new space I was meant to be, sputtering up salt water, coughing, and wheezing because I chose to hide instead of ride that wave and see where it took me. Cause that translates to stability? So, since what I’ve been doing isn’t getting me to where I’d like to be, I’m going to try something different. I’m going to do my best to not hide from those waves, to not bitch about them, but to stare at them head-on and then ride them out with grace.

One of the things that I’ve allowed to lapse when those waves come rolling toward me is my writing, as is evidenced through the extreme inconsistency of posts here. I’d like that to be different. At the moment, we have one semi-functional car among myself and the two other adults with whom I share my life. My wife is working full-time, and her husband is working part-time. His boss provides transportation to the jobs they handle, so his lack of vehicular independence isn’t a problem. My role in our house and family, though, has dramatically changed from being the full-time employee and primary “bread-winner” to being the stay-at-home mom. I’m still adjusting. One of the beautiful things about this new situation, though, is that it provides me more time to be able to devote to writing.

I was reflecting on this the other day and a movie clip from my memory slid onto a projector in my mind. I am in my tenth grade biology class. We are, yet again, sitting at our desks and coloring in pictures of mitochondria. It seems we spend most of this year just coloring in pictures of cells. Mrs. S, our teacher, is at her desk with her head bent down doing who-knows-what-besides-ignoring-us. My lab partner, JW, asks me what movie I watched this weekend. We’re not really friends, JW and myself, but these times of coloring pictures have become story time for all of us and quiet anticipation breathes collectively as they all await my tale. It is not that I am popular or friends with all or even most of them. As soon as the bell rings, we will go about the rest of our day and probably ignore each other again. But right now, I am the story teller and they are my eager audience. I begin recounting the latest movie I saw, vividly painting the scenes with florid descriptions as our coloring pencils fill in the whites of the papers on our desks. There are occasional laughs, gasps, “No way!”s, and “Then what happened?!”s. Some times, someone will point out a part I missed or forgot – not antagonistically, but because they want me to go back and include it. I am in my element. It is not the attention that I seek – I’m more comfortable out of the spotlight than in it, struggling as I am with typical 15 year old insecurities – but it is the passion for the story and its telling that drives me and lifts me up into more of who I am than I am capable of achieving on my own at the time.

I’ve been meditating a lot over the course of the last year and, through meditation, have been holding discussions with my True Self. She is a story teller. After I learned that, it made much more sense as to why I have difficulty being concise. It also made much more sense as to why I feel so alive and just right within my own space when I am writing or telling stories. In an effort to step more into the space of my True Self, I am recommitting myself to this space and to writing. I don’t know how often I’ll be posting here, but I’ll aim for at least twice a week to start and see how that goes. Wherever you are in your journey, I wish you well.

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