“Art involves a blood sacrifice.
You need to create out of what scares you, what hurts, what makes you ache with longing, what makes you cry; I don’t know why it has to be this way, but if you can’t move yourself, if you can’t shake your own soul to pieces, how can you expect to connect with the inner lives of others?” Justine Musk
This has been a long time coming, this surrender to the overwhelming need, the ravenous hunger to write and share that I was given by the gods of personality. This is a surrender to immense vulnerability. The vulnerability of facing difficult emotions and thoughts as I unravel my story. The vulnerability of allowing others to see me when I am raw: whether I am raw with bliss in the amazing Universe we live in, or raw with gratitude for the generosity and creativity that humans are capable of, or raw in the waves of grief over the losses (heart openings) in my life, or raw with rage about what humans are doing to each other and the world we live in.
This surrender is tentative as I write this. I am finding every reason to avoid writing. I wrote the first paragraph a couple days ago. I’ve been inside this shell for nearly three years. I’ve hidden deep inside myself, barely allowing glimpses to those around me, other than my fiance, who bears the brunt of my emotional expression, and my daughter, because she lives with us. But even they have only seen the tip of the iceberg. I myself have consciously perceived little of the molten emotion swirling and exploding in the volcano of my heart. So much of my process has been non-verbal, even inside my own mind. I have no idea what is going to come through when I start shaping my story through words.
I went into hibernation after several challenging emotional situations and when Fibromyalsia started wreaking havoc in my body with pain, insomnia and brain fogs (which are the worst symptom for a smart and creative person!). Once medications relieved most of the pain and sleep issues, I remained in a conscious hibernation, though it looked a lot like depression and isolation to those around me. The pregnancy, birth and adoption of our son took all of my physical and emotional resources to live through. I had little to give anyone else.
Since last September I have slowly been emerging from my cocoon, still feeling like a messy chrysalis in some places while my wings unfurl in others.
I moved to a new city and a new life a week ago. I am in shock. I am excited. I am scared. I am having multitudes of Big Feels as I nurture a daily relationship with the Mamas and our son, establish myself in a new environment, and look for work that will challenge me with healthy leadership opportunities.
I have written many blogs over the past 14 years. Usually when I write for public consumption I take hours to edit my posts, because I consider myself a “serious writer.” However, I recognize an opportunity with this new blog in allowing myself the space to just write what comes without worrying about perfect word choices for now. I need to find my voice as I make sense of who I have become in this new place with my new family. I need to allow the words to flow as my process and emotions unfurl into letters, words and sentences. Perhaps even poetry.
Whatever this becomes, it begins here, today, with the courage to press “publish.”