You may know that I started up a new blog, "Elapsing Elegantly." It's actually a whole website of blogs dedicated to sharing how I spend my time each day. I arranged the site according to days of the week, mirroring how I'm putting structure onto the rather unstructured time I have on my hands. And I've been making updates to those blogs, sharing little anecdotes and glimpses into my day - everything from what I'm baking to what I'm reading, etc. Well, I'm really tempted to say that the whole site is a sham and that I'm stupid for even starting it. 'Cause who can believe that a 'house woman' with no job and a lot of time on her hands has anything really interesting to share? I realize what I'm experiencing is a great amount of shame right now about pretending that I feel great about my life when, really, I don't know what the hell I'm doing.
Ah! It already feels better to say that, even if it is only partially true.
I've been convincing myself that wedding planning and visits to loved ones is enough to keep me satisfied. Laundry day's on Thursdays, and on Mondays I meditate to start the week off right...
The truth is, I'm scared. I'm scared and I'm bored, and I'm lost and confused. In a conversation with my fiance today, he reminded me about the baby-steps approach that I can take to getting back on track. The encouragement he shared with me is similar to what I have myself told so many other people: Find your purpose and then do things in alignment with it. But that's just the problem, you see. And as soon as he mentioned an overall life purpose, I panicked. What is my purpose? I sat on the couch and cried and cried. Easy for him to say, Mr. College Professor making an impact at a fancy-schmancy school. After a little while of feeling sorry for myself, I picked up Brene's book. Her words sooth me, because they help me realize that dwelling in my own shame will do nothing but perpetuate it. And if I'm feeling guilty, it's better to just come out with it than to cover it up.
I miss my old blog - this one. I'm coming back to "Then Sings My Soul." At least then, when I was updating here, I had a purpose; each update was a song of my soul. That was my purpose - to Sing my Soul. But Elapsing Elegantly? Just waiting around for time to pass and finding little things to do to not feel guilty that I don't know what the hell I'm doing with my life? There is no purpose for me in that. That doesn't pull me - it doesn't inspire me to simply elapse. And what's this elegantly thing? There is really not much that's very elegant about me these days other than the way I try and present myself to the world. My life is messy, unfocused, filled with starting and stopping, inconsistent. I'm clumsy. I'm learning. It's like I'm on new legs, and I forgot that I used to know how to walk. None of this artificial structure to an artificial life. Who am I kidding, anyway? Five blogs? Who has time for all that? At least here, I'm surrounded by old friends reminding me of Who I Really Am.
So, Who Am I, Really? and What's My Purpose?
Although I'm tempted to say, I just don't know, I also know that that's far from the truth. It's the fear talking, and it's not all that dramatic. Just because my life feels aimless does not mean that it is.
I look around this blog - and inside my own heart - and I see that I am a person who
Reads
Writes
Takes photos
Shares
Writes Poetry
Writes Music
Sings
Connects
Enjoys nature
Talks and writes about life and love
I am all those things, and more.
And what's my purpose?
Well, there's not be an immediate answer to that which will satisfy me, I can say that ultimately, my purpose is to be myself and to love.
Beyond that, in human terms, I don't really know what that looks like. But for now, I'll take it.
I titled this blog Coming Clean because that's what I want to do. I have, in the past, been ashamed to admit the truth about myself and my state of being. Rather, I typically have wanted myself to come across as perfect, elegant, graceful and enviable. Well, I'm not. I'm just like you. I'm just like everyone else. I want my life to be meaningful, and I want to have a sense of its significance; I want to know that I matter. And to make a difference - to have an impact. A good one. A positive one. I want my life to be a blessing.
It is with that intention that I reach out and write. And even though the shame monster is telling me all kinds of mean things while I'm doing it, I will work on building my resilience by moving forward anyway.
No one cares about your life or your stupid ideas.
Your blog is a useless waste of time.
You're kidding yourself thinking that anyone gives a shit about what you want to say.
You're not a real writer, so stop pretending to be one.
You're never really going to have any significance to the world at large.
...and a myriad of others. I'll spare you the rest.
Harsh, right? I should be ashamed of myself sharing such personal, ugly things with my readers.
What will people think?
What I hope you'll think is "Thank God I'm not the only one who has those thoughts or feels those feelings."
That's what I hope.
What I fear you'll think is, "My God, she's losing it. What a pitiful person."
(sigh)
But that's ok.
Because I feel better.
And I trust that my vulnerability is useful and helpful and advancing humanity by demonstrating how to own up to what's real and stop pretending and hiding.
And because I believe that despite any thoughts or feelings of shame I might have, I'm ok. I'm human. I'm natural. I'm real.
So, what about you?
