Haven't been writing much. Haven't been *engaged* much. I have been hunkered down, being a hermit. Very little socializing and a little bit of decluttering. Mostly just being a homebody, but not nearly as productive as I would like to be.
But you know... I am ok with that. I can't seem to muster up any regret for doing exactly what seems right at the time. Yeah, I know there are some 'shoulds' that are haunting me. Some of them are things I think I should be doing and WANT to do, but haven't mustered the energy to change my direction and make those things happen. Writing has been one of those things, but I was inspired this evening by this post. It is exactly how I feel, and exactly how I want to be. My freak flags are different from this writer's, but mine are just as freaky, just as scary to share. I haven't shared a lot of them, but they will all come to light as I delve deeper and deeper into writing my story. How could they not?
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
Friday, April 1, 2011
A new phase of the journey
I haven't been prioritizing writing lately. Part of me felt I 'should' be writing more, but part of me was honoring the resistance, and focusing my energy in making progress in other areas. I have spent the last few weeks making very *slow* but real progress on dealing with my clutter. I still have a long way to go, but I will continue to forge ahead.
Tonight, I felt compelled to write, though. It's midnight, and the alarm will sound in less than 6 hours. But there is no way I can sleep until I process some of this energy that is pounding through me right now. I was just getting ready to come to bed. I grabbed my phone, and checked email from it as I walked to my room. I saw there was a comment posted from one of my first blog posts here. This email means I now have the means to fully write this story. It also means I have a whole new phase of my journey to begin as I process feelings and thoughts from so many years ago. It means I now have a way to get answers to questions I thought would go unanswered.
I am not sure exactly what I want to happen, but I do know I want to ask questions. Am I prepared for the answers?
The email was from my uncle. An uncle I have no recollection of ever meeting. He is my father's brother. Since I have been estranged from my mentally ill father and all of his family for 27 years, this is very out of the blue. It never occurred to me that I might be approached by family I didn't know. It isn't a bad thing, I don't think. At the very least, it means I have a resource for further research. I can get some answers.
It's like the universe is kicking me in the ass to get on with writing this book already! I had started to think that I should back burner it for a few months, since other stuff seems to be more on the forefront of my mind of late. I guess I know now that this needs to remain solidly on the FRONT burner.
You know, my stove has TWO front burners. One is large, one is small. They both work, but the large one heats up faster and things get cooked more quickly there. I think right now, the book needs to be on the small burner. The big burner has *everything* else in my life on it, so it's already overloaded....work, daily living, clearing clutter, building relationships... all that lies together on the big burner, but the small burner.... it still gets pretty darned hot, it still needs a good deal of attention. I can't forget about it again, I don't want to scorch it.
Tonight, I felt compelled to write, though. It's midnight, and the alarm will sound in less than 6 hours. But there is no way I can sleep until I process some of this energy that is pounding through me right now. I was just getting ready to come to bed. I grabbed my phone, and checked email from it as I walked to my room. I saw there was a comment posted from one of my first blog posts here. This email means I now have the means to fully write this story. It also means I have a whole new phase of my journey to begin as I process feelings and thoughts from so many years ago. It means I now have a way to get answers to questions I thought would go unanswered.
I am not sure exactly what I want to happen, but I do know I want to ask questions. Am I prepared for the answers?
The email was from my uncle. An uncle I have no recollection of ever meeting. He is my father's brother. Since I have been estranged from my mentally ill father and all of his family for 27 years, this is very out of the blue. It never occurred to me that I might be approached by family I didn't know. It isn't a bad thing, I don't think. At the very least, it means I have a resource for further research. I can get some answers.
It's like the universe is kicking me in the ass to get on with writing this book already! I had started to think that I should back burner it for a few months, since other stuff seems to be more on the forefront of my mind of late. I guess I know now that this needs to remain solidly on the FRONT burner.
You know, my stove has TWO front burners. One is large, one is small. They both work, but the large one heats up faster and things get cooked more quickly there. I think right now, the book needs to be on the small burner. The big burner has *everything* else in my life on it, so it's already overloaded....work, daily living, clearing clutter, building relationships... all that lies together on the big burner, but the small burner.... it still gets pretty darned hot, it still needs a good deal of attention. I can't forget about it again, I don't want to scorch it.
Monday, January 31, 2011
Internalizing messages from my childhood. I am bad.
In a writing workshop a few months ago, the facilitator had us write a scene from our life. The instruction was to think of a turning point in our life. Write about something that changed our life in a some small or large way. At first, nothing came to mind. Then I thought of a day when I was five years old. I was just weeks into my kindergarten year. The following is a slightly edited and fleshed out version of the scene I wrote that day in workshop.
Just moments after Bob goes inside, Billy's foot eeks across the hot vinyl seat and nudges me. I kick him back, "Stop it!" I say, "you're gonna get us in trouble."
"No, you stop it," as he says as he pushes me. Before I realize it we are bickering and hitting.
A huge hand swoops in out of nowhere and backhands both of us in one fell swoop. "I SAID NO FIGHTING," he roars. Billy and I freeze in pure terror. We look at each other, now comrades with a common enemy, and know we are are in deep, deep trouble. We also blame each other for getting us there.
I have never had such physical fear in my life. My family is loving and not violent. I've been spanked, but I knew this was different. The next hours pass in a blur of fear and snaps of leather on bare skin. By the end of the afternoon, both Billy and I were black and blue from mid-back to the back of our knees.
I was a bad girl. How dare I defy the grown-up in charge of me, and I had BETTER not tell my parents about today. If I tell the them about the spanking, they might punish me further. They will know what a horrible, vile little girl I *really* am.
This was the first time that I ever internalized the message that there was something wrong with me. This was the first time I *knew* I was not ok... I was bad, and deserved to be punished.
************************
As I sit in the back seat of the car with Billy, Bob (our babysitter) stops at 7-11 for something. As he gets out of the car, he snaps at us, "Don't fight. Don't touch each other or you're gonna get it." Billy is a year younger than I am, only 4. We often fight like brother and sister. Just moments after Bob goes inside, Billy's foot eeks across the hot vinyl seat and nudges me. I kick him back, "Stop it!" I say, "you're gonna get us in trouble."
"No, you stop it," as he says as he pushes me. Before I realize it we are bickering and hitting.
A huge hand swoops in out of nowhere and backhands both of us in one fell swoop. "I SAID NO FIGHTING," he roars. Billy and I freeze in pure terror. We look at each other, now comrades with a common enemy, and know we are are in deep, deep trouble. We also blame each other for getting us there.
I have never had such physical fear in my life. My family is loving and not violent. I've been spanked, but I knew this was different. The next hours pass in a blur of fear and snaps of leather on bare skin. By the end of the afternoon, both Billy and I were black and blue from mid-back to the back of our knees.
I was a bad girl. How dare I defy the grown-up in charge of me, and I had BETTER not tell my parents about today. If I tell the them about the spanking, they might punish me further. They will know what a horrible, vile little girl I *really* am.
************************
This was the first time that I ever internalized the message that there was something wrong with me. This was the first time I *knew* I was not ok... I was bad, and deserved to be punished.
Prodigal daughter returns
Where, oh where, has little Kimmie gone? When we last saw our Heroine, it was November, and she was contemplating food and weight. Then came December, full of the hustle and bustle of the holiday season. Too many parties and birthdays and stuff and I just didn't have time to write.
But in late December I went on vacation. I even had some down time that would have been perfect for writing, but I felt "dried up" and didn't know what to write. Now, January is almost gone, it's been a full two months since I posted, and I have to take a hard look at WHY I have not written.
I think a lot of it has to do with the subject of my last post... weight. I think since I am still holding onto this extra weight, I have had a negative voice telling me I am a failure and a bunch of other BS. Additionally, I have been having a bit of the winter doldrums. While I don't feel significantly depressed, I just notice a bit of apathy, which I can only associate with it being winter. December and January have historically been "bad times" for me, so it's just my life following it's usual cycles.
But this blog, my book, and my life are not about how much I weigh. My journey and the story I have to share is about love and compassion. It's about the love and compassion I have for myself. It means I forgive myself for not being perfect, for letting some weight creep on, and I love myself to make some changes to nip the problem in the bud before it becomes/seems insurmountable (again.)
I have a number of blog ideas peculating in my head, so I hope have a more active presence here over the coming days and weeks. I am committed to doing *some* kind of writing every day. My current goal is to write a minimum of 15 minutes a day on the scenes/stories for my memoir. Additionally I want to post here once or twice a week.
Determined and excited once again.
But in late December I went on vacation. I even had some down time that would have been perfect for writing, but I felt "dried up" and didn't know what to write. Now, January is almost gone, it's been a full two months since I posted, and I have to take a hard look at WHY I have not written.
I think a lot of it has to do with the subject of my last post... weight. I think since I am still holding onto this extra weight, I have had a negative voice telling me I am a failure and a bunch of other BS. Additionally, I have been having a bit of the winter doldrums. While I don't feel significantly depressed, I just notice a bit of apathy, which I can only associate with it being winter. December and January have historically been "bad times" for me, so it's just my life following it's usual cycles.
But this blog, my book, and my life are not about how much I weigh. My journey and the story I have to share is about love and compassion. It's about the love and compassion I have for myself. It means I forgive myself for not being perfect, for letting some weight creep on, and I love myself to make some changes to nip the problem in the bud before it becomes/seems insurmountable (again.)
I have a number of blog ideas peculating in my head, so I hope have a more active presence here over the coming days and weeks. I am committed to doing *some* kind of writing every day. My current goal is to write a minimum of 15 minutes a day on the scenes/stories for my memoir. Additionally I want to post here once or twice a week.
Determined and excited once again.
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