The last few months I’ve been taking a good look at what holds me back from living my best life. I alluded to it in my An Un-Becoming post. I was tasked to complete a values worksheet in the cognitive behavioural therapy (CBT) program I’m in. I had to rate how important a list of values are to me, along with how satisfied I am with them. The former was easy. The latter made me sob. It hurt in the deepest core of my being to see in print how unsatisfied I am. After sitting with the pain for a couple of days, I said out loud – So, whatcha gonna do about this kid?
Initially, I thought to work on my goals worksheet. And while setting goals is all fine and well, and I do it regularly, I realized I needed to look at my past before I started planning for my future. I wanted to see where the gaps were really coming from. How much of it was internal versus external. How my responses and reactions to people, places, and things were contributing to my dissatisfaction with my life and myself.
I journaled about it and a few words kept jumping off the pages and slapping me silly in my gut. One of them was inhibitions. Yuck. Not a word I like. Not a word I want to used in any way that indicates I have some. Not a word I’m proud of. Not a word I wanted to write about. But the ink in my journal couldn’t be denied. Even if I used correction tape to blot it out of my notebook, I couldn’t unsee or unfeel the word. Interesting that product is called correction tape.
Me and my love for dictionaries, I looked up definitions. A few I found were:
An inability to act naturally, especially because of lack of confidence.
An inner impediment to free activity and expression.
The process of restraining one’s impulses or behaviour, either consciously or unconsciously.
But for myself, I have to ask: are they really inhibitions? Or are they inhabititions? Yes, I made up another word. I’m very uninhibited that way. But for some weird reason, that nonsense word came to mind and actually made sense to me. In two different contexts, but I’ll only delve into the first one now.
When someone or something inhabits a place, it lives there. My past lives inside of me. It’s become a part of my genetic makeup, the workings of my brain, my memories. I classify periods of my past as previous versions of myself. Aspects of past versions of me were flooding my mind and my heart this week. I wanted to ask a close friend their thoughts on something I’m interested in doing. I felt nervous about asking them, even though I can share anything with them, they know me better than I know myself sometimes. I highly value their opinion. So why would I be afraid? In a word, insecurity. I was fearful of how they might respond, that they might misunderstand me, that they wouldn’t engage in discussing it with me.
Insecurity is a part of every single past version I have of myself. But I’ve started to push that part of me out. I didn’t want it renting space in my mind, heart, and soul. I gave it a notice of eviction. In time, it will leave and be replaced with stronger senses of security and confidence. And it began with hitting send on a text message. I simply asked if I could get their feedback on something. They were busy at the time, and that momentarily made me feel insecure. I wondered if I should even be asking them. I didn’t let it last though. When they had time the next day, they told me to ask the question. Okay, so maybe I drafted it out, rewrote it a few times, overthought how to say it. But I took a deep breath and sent the message. I was elated. I was free.
As I drove to one of my usual writing spots this evening, Adele’s Someone Like You came on the radio. The song really doesn’t have much to do with this post. But two lines in it do. It was like I was hearing the current version of me speak to previous versions of myself. Me today, kicking out the insecurities of my yesterdays. Basically saying to them: See ya! Don’t wanna be ya anymore!
“I hate to turn up out of the blue, uninvited But I couldn’t stay away, I couldn’t fight it”
Picture credit: me, from my journal after hitting send!
Stolen Words are my compilations of lyrics used to make a new piece of prose of sorts. Usually, my writings are collected from a wide variety of songs. However, when a singer/song-writer passes, I am often moved to listen to their music and enjoy the memories their melodies have given me.
Yesterday, Tony Bennett passed away at the age of 96. Below is the piece I wrote in honour of the legendary crooner. Some of the songs are his originals, some are covers of other icons like Frank Sinatra, while some are performances with others. I am especially fond of his two duets albums: Duets: An American Classic, and Duets II.
There’s a line between love and fascination (My Foolish Heart) It’s the good life to be free and explore the unknown (The Good Life) Let’s see if the puzzle fits so fine (I Wanna Be Around)
My heart wants to know, and so I must go where destiny leads me (Who Can I Turn To) For once, unafraid, I can go where life leads me (For Once In My Life) No more doubt or fear, I found my way (Just In Time)
And I ascended out of the common place (A Stranger In Paradise) I don’t have any reasons, I’ve left them all behind (New York State Of Mind) Still it’s a real good bet the best is yet to come (The Best Is Yet To Come)
I love the free, fresh wind in my hair, life without care (The Lady Is A Tramp) Softer than satin was the light from the stars (Blue Velvet) High on a hill, it calls to me (I Left My Heart In San Francisco)
My dear, it’s four-leaf clover time (‘S Wonderful) Good night, baby, good night, the milkman’s on his way (Lullaby Of Broadway) Think of banana split and licorice and you’ll feel fine (Put On A Happy Face)
Because of you there’s a song in my heart (Because Of You) There is nothing for me but to love you (The Way You Look Tonight) But save your love, I just want your company (Rags To Riches)
With any luck, then I suppose the music never ends (How Do You Keep The Music Playing) And let the music play as long as there’s a song to sing (This Is All I Ask) And let that harmony ring up to Heaven (Sing You Sinners)
Fly me to the moon, let me play among the stars (Fly Me To The Moon)
All copyright remains with the original songwriter(s).
Most people know that sex releases “feel good” chemicals in our brains. Any many will have heard of the “runner’s high” that can do the same. They can give you your daily D.O.S.E. of happiness: Dopamine, Oxytocin, Serotonin, and Endorphins.
But did you know that for some – like me – writing can do the same?
I find writing arousing, sensual, and sexy as you know what. Here’s why …
Vulnerability is key. Writers are naked with their thoughts and dare to be exhibitionists with them.
Overthinking kills the spontaneity. And it will give you a headache, which usually eliminates the mood.
It can’t be forced. It’s an artful expression that demands patience and delicate seduction.
There’s no wrong way to do it! Let it be playful, an experiment, and an avenue to let go of your inhibitions.
There are times for it to move slowly and times for it to be fast and furious. Go with the flow and see where it takes you.
You can keep it to yourself, but it’s more fun to share with others.
A Facebook friend once told me: “It doesn’t have to be brilliant. It just has to be honest.” One of the finest pieces of writing advice I’ve ever been given. And perhaps one of the most scintillating tips for sex too.
So if you’re trying to get into writing, for whatever reason, just start. Don’t let your anxieties, insecurities, or perfectionism tendencies get in the way. Your audience is waiting for the kind of expression only you can make. Even if that audience is only you.
If you take these points into consideration, both writing and sex can have a very satisfying ending. And if you aren’t “in the mood” for one, try the other. You’ve got nothing to lose and hey, who knows, maybe it will get you all revved up to release yourself liberally with the other activity.
A friend of mine shared the below quote on Facebook recently. It really hit a chord with me. Literally, the words made sense to me right away. I knew what the author was saying. What it meant for me in practice, well that took a few days, some journaling, and a lot of time pondering time.
“Maybe the journey isn’t so much about becoming anything.
Maybe it’s about un-becoming everything that isn’t really you,
so you can be who you were meant to be in the first place.”
I chose to write 45 things about myself instead of the usual 10, 25, or even 100 for three reasons. It’s a ‘different’ number to use and I’m not the girl next door. 45 is halfway to my goal of living to 90. I like to hear music played on 45’s.
Okay, enough with the drama already. Let’s get to my point now shall we?
Part I and Part II were partly for you my dear readers and partly for my indulgence in navel-gazing. My own navel that is, don’t worry. This post – Part III – is the end of the trilogy. But it’s also a beginning. A new beginning. [Is that an oxymoron? Aren’t all beginnings new? Oh well, I’m saying it anyway.]
The beginning is to introduce to you my new blog. The one you are reading now. Did ya catch the name or just hop right over when you saw the post on my old blog announcing to the world I had started this blog? Yeah, I’m pretty excited about it too so I’ll forgive you on that one.
Assuming you have by now taken a peek at the title, I’ll give you some background on why I chose the name.
The remarkable event I wrote of in Part I gave way to another remarkable event – I started thinking about blogging again. Uugghh – it was back. Those thoughts that filled me with such a mixed bag of emotions. So what was I going to do about them this time?
I visited my old blog. I took a peek at the 31 different babblings of words in my drafts folder. That made me wonder if I still had an old Word document on my computer with post ideas too. Yep, I did but this time I didn’t bother to count all of the super-dee-duper brainchildren I thought should be birthed. I read some of the published posts though. I’ll admit, I went right to the ones with the most comments and/or likes. I guess that part was just to make me feel better about my writing, to validate myself. Laugh out loud if you’ve done it too. Especially if you just took a swig of something. That would make me laugh out loud too.
Recently, I was driving to Burlington from Stratford, where I currently live. It’s a drive I take regularly. Winter hazards excluded, I enjoy the journey. Especially when it’s just me, my coffee, my music, and my thoughts. This particular trip was, I guess I’d have to say eventful. Not because of anything terrific or horrific happening. Just because it included an event that was strikingly full of familiarity and yet strangely unfamiliar at once.
Their Words. My Musings. 