The Power of Momentum

I’ve spent time journaling my stream of consciousness this past week. I am happy I am writing, but I am aware that I am avoiding something. I had a great suggestion from a writer friend about how to come up with good blog ideas (of which I thought I had many).  He suggested I have friends ask me questions like, “how I met my husband,” or, “how I met my best friend”. These are interesting stories and I see where he is going with this. I got the sense he wants me to write more about myself instead of me writing about the fear of writing about myself.  So now I am writing but I am writing much about nothing. I have some real substance to write about, yet I’m reluctant to share. I’ve always used writing as an outlet, something that fed my soul and healed my spirit. I keep saying I want to be a writer so I need to stop dancing around the stories and just tell them.

This new online mentor group I’ve signed up for to help keep me accountable to achieving my goals: “Check in, Not Out,” I’m finding is all about building momentum. At the end of the second week I am closer to completing my goal of writing three hours a week and I can see how the momentum builds and really takes on a life of its own. It is the starting that takes the most effort. Showing up is half the battle, right?

So,  (gulp…) I’m going to share a bit more of myself with you. 

I am 45 years old. The other day I couldn’t remember how old I was. I have finally become the age that forgets how old they are. I am a mom, who is married to a man who is not the father of my son. I was never married to my son’s father.  I have two dogs, Jersey and Dakota, who are a bit mischievous.  I like to refer to myself as the bad pet parent. We really let them get away with a lot but they are so full of love. 

My son is 11 years old. I am one of nine children—I am number 5. I never refer to any of my brothers or sisters as only half-siblings, I think that is silly and my mother was the kind of woman who made sure we understood that there isn’t half when it comes to family.

I received my High School Diploma in prison. I now mentor a woman in prison. I went to community college to become a better writer when I got out of prison. I still work for the man that gave me one of my first jobs. He hired me back when I got out of prison and I really love him. As I embark on a new career path, it is hard to move into doing less of my day job and more of this deeply gratifying work. My fear is part financial security, but mostly it is the fear of failure and success. I still have ingrained in me the only way to survive is to have a day job whether you like it or not. The “job”  will always be me more than I am worth. I should be happy with it. I don’t want to keep this belief system, but I know I still have it. 

I spent a season getting certified to jump out of planes. I jumped 14 times by myself. I am still afraid of heights. I spent a winter living in Colorado as a ski bum. I lived in the highest elevated town for two months, Leadville Colorado. I’ve traveled across country twice.

I believe in love at first sight. I also believe it can end. I love purple roses even though they are unnatural. I am on the verge of tears every time I smell Gardenias. My husband planted over 200 hundred tulips as a surprise and didn’t tell me until they bloomed. I have a special affinity for trees. My husband and I got married in front of a tree. One of my favorite books is the giving tree. I guess I am melancholy, by nature.

I wish I could say what was on my mind. I wish I had a different childhood. I am grateful for my childhood, but I like irony. I don’t like the fact that my teeth are changing so rapidly. 

Between the ages of 17 and 25 I lived in over 10 different homes/apartments. I used to write very dark poetry. I turned some of my poetry into punk rock songs. I always wanted to be anyone but me. I now don’t want to be anyone but myself. 

I am sometimes very patient. I am sometimes very impatient. I like coffee. I gave it up for 6 years.  I drink coffee now. I want to stop drinking coffee. The desire is not great enough.

I don’t think about my mother that often. I think of how much I am like my mother. I try to grow the things I love about my mother. It took me a long time to find forgiveness for her. I now can ask for forgiveness from others. I am grateful I now know how to ask. I was with both of my sisters when they died. I have experienced death a lot. I am still afraid of dying. I loved my grandmother very much. I was her second favorite. She had 14 grandchildren. I am of Italian/Irish descent. 

I love Uma Thurman. She is my girl crush. I would really like to handstand in the middle of a room. I wish I had my son’s confidence. The three words my son says to me the most are: I got this. 

I wanted to be a rock star. I am dramatic enough to be an actress. I lived in Santa Monica California for three months. The only time I ever asked my father for money was to get home from Santa Monica, California.  My father died a month after my son was born.

There are friendships I have let go of. I am happy I did. I am sad I did. I have known my best friend since we were 10. She knows everything about me. She loves me. I love her. I am grateful.

My husband is very sentimental. He cries more than most men I have known. That is one of the reasons I married him. I cry a lot too.

I feel deeply. I forgive easily. Sometimes… I want to forgive easily more of the time. I am silly and serious. I can go from silly to serious in a split second. 

I am not sure if my greatest fear is rejection or being hurt. I am sorry if I have hurt you. I have to practice being a more patient driver but I am getting much better.

Purple is my favorite color. I look great in red. I wish I didn’t have cellulite. I don’t love my thighs but I don’t hate them anymore. I have nice eyes. I remember my mother’s hands. I remember her smile. It was big.

More will be revealed.