The past few weeks I have been feeling monumentally adrift.
My passion for my bill-paying job (which began as a passion 7 years ago) deflated like a saggy, old balloon. The new things I wanted to delve into were untried and untested and would mean a massive shift in how our lives operated. Plus, I desperately wanted to move out to an idyllic little house in the woods. To garden. And write. And just maybe other people were invited.
Last night during another long discussion with my husband about our direction and the possibilities (which seemed endless but also unfeasible) I realized that, girl, you’ve actually got what you want. And you’ve got it purdy darn good.
With a tear in my eye (for self pity -that yucky old devil) I realized I had to put on my big girl panties and get back on the horse. Because:
I wanted this life and love the way it’s structured.
This morning I got up and immediately hopped into my office to implement a plan of attack and remedy the slow limp my business was about to start the summer off with. I believed in myself again and what I could do. And…I had a goal, something that filled my heart with delight that I would be happy to work towards for the next 3-5 years. My carrot on a stick. My country house where the kids can play in the woods and I can garden and do all sorts of wonderful country things I’ve always wanted. My “Laura Engalls Wilder meets Anne of Green Gables” place.
During a long drive today from San Antonio back to Austin, the truth in the image below hit me on the head like an Acme mallet.
A shift in perspective was all it took to bring me out of a SEA of helplessness. Truly, the past few weeks/days I felt utterly adrift with no one to rescue me. In my heart I knew that no one could give me the answer of what to do next, what direction to go. I had to choose that for myself. And the responsibility of that decision weighed a crap ton. Because wrapped up in those decisions was the welfare of my family. MAN, I just wanted the answer. Or a million dollars.
When I realized that my perspective was the answer and that I was the only one who could give myself permission to move in any direction or be whatever I was hoping to become, the facade crumbled. Walls disintegrated into dust.
I have the key.
What a thought. And I give myself permission to be and do _____________.
And you know what really triggered it? Singing along to Adele and thinking about finding my own vocal style. That’s something I’ve toyed with for awhile. I grew up singing very “correctly” and very -well- boring. My sister? She’s phenomenal, because she threw away the book and just lets her soul out while she sings. I want that. I started trying that. How do I sound? What’s my style? And that’s when it hit me: I have a style and I get to discover it and I get to say if it’s true to me and sings out my soul. I get to pick; I have the key that allows me to unlock who I am.
No one else can tell you who you are. They can offer insight, but only WE label ourselves or let other’s labels stick to us. (I hate labels. They’re so annoying. Especially when you have to scrape and scrape the get them off. Literally and metaphorically.)
Hooray -HIP HIP HOORAY!- that we get to decide who we are and what we do. Yeah, it’s a lot of responsibility. BUT, it means you get to pick instead of just having life handed to you. That’s not freedom. And we’ve only got this one chance, so let’s live it beautifully!