Tag Archives: Fear

All I got right now is “try.”

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Last night, while checking my blog stats, I realized that someone had unsubscribed from my blog.  I spent a frantic ten minutes tracking down who it was–thankfully it wasn’t someone who knows me “in real life.”  And yet, I still felt sad.  Why don’t they like me?

I told Eric, and he said “So? You don’t care do you?”  Well, kind of.  I want people to like what I’m doing.  He said “I thought you were doing this for yourself?”  I am, but if I didn’t care what anyone thought, I wouldn’t do it quite so publicly.  I want people to read it, I want an audience.  I want people to think it’s worth reading.

I want people to like me…

Ah, there it is.  The problem, the central issue, the heart of the matter.  I don’t want to be famous, I want to be adored.  I want permission, I want approval.  And it hurts so much more to get rejected for who you really are and what you really care about.  In an article in the January 2011 issue of fear.less magazine, the author Steven Pressfield says “I think we’re all terrified of that, to be what we’re meant to be. Because then all the responsibility lays on us and we can’t hide behind anything.”

And yet, once I realized who had unsubscribed, it made sense.  She was a 20 year old student from New York who loves books and reading and who’d found my blog because of a post I’d written about how much I loved reading.  She thought that this was a blog about reading, the love of the word.  And it is, in part.  But, I’m sure that my posts this weekend about death, cancer, and marriage freaked her out a little.  This wasn’t what she’d signed up for.

But it is what I’ve signed up for. I am going to show up, I am going to try. I don’t want to stop, and there is still work to do–great work if I can just figure out exactly what. So, here I am: all in. The habitual numbing out that I have practiced for so many years is sticky and I feel claustrophobic in my stinky little cocoon where I’ve spent most of my time. It isn’t working anymore. Something has to change. I have to save my own life.

Let go.

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Dear kind and gentle reader,

I have been in a funk all day, generally fussy, frustrated and foggy. It actually started yesterday.  I was sad about Steve Jobs, but it was a tender and raw sad that made me recommit to having a life that was whole and real.  Then I remembered that Saturday, tomorrow, is my friend Kelly’s birthday.  She passed away on May 14, 2010, and I spend every day missing her, but again this is a sadness that, though deeper than the other, fuels my desire to live a better life, to not give up.

Then I got some family news that I won’t share here, but I’ll just say that we must remember that even when we can’t keep someone we love safe, when we can’t help them and they don’t seem to want or be able to help themselves, when we have trouble dealing with the worry and stress and anger, we MUST remember to take care of ourselves.

And then, this morning, an email from Brave Girls Club. It was all about letting go, “Your heart and your gut know exactly what you need to let go of, even if your brain is giving you all sorts of reasons to clamp your fingers around it.”  Last week’s theme in my Mondo Beyondo class was about creating a clearing, “a gap, a wide open empty space for your dreams to find their way in,” “a wide open empty space in your life that is ready for something new or amazing to emerge.” I started thinking about all the things I’ve been forced to let go, needed to let go, let go because there was no other option, and all of the things I probably should let go of, still need to clear out. *sigh*

Then I saw an article in the local paper about one of my yoga buddies.  We’ve been practicing together for over four years, and I knew she’d had breast cancer, was still dealing with cancer related issues, but I had no idea how bad her cancer really is: “Now, it’s in my bones. It’s in all the lobes of my lungs. It’s in my lymph nodes.”  I am still in shock.  We practiced together this morning and stayed and talked for a bit after, about the article, about her cancer, about her life.  She kicks my butt every yoga class, does things I can’t, and always makes me laugh.  That voice inside my head, the one that started when Obi was diagnosed, then Kelly, and then when Obi died, followed by Kelly, starts to sob again “but it’s not fair!”

I am humbled, confused, sad, angry, broken, messy, and so tired.  I am not giving up, and I still am so in love with all of it, but…sometimes it’s just so hard.  Do you know what I mean?

This video is one of my favorite singer/songwriters, Rosie Thomas: “Kite Song.” I dedicate it to all of us who are trying so hard to hold on, so hard to let go. I wish all of us some peace.

Oh, tie me to the end of a kite
So I can go on, I can go on with my life
Every marigold I pass below will be my guiding light
I just want to go away from here

Oh, tie me to the end of a kite
So I can go on, I can go on with my life
Every time the wind blows stronger,
I will feel my spirit rise
I just want to go away from here

Oh, tie me up tightly by your side
So I may go with you where ever you reside
And anytime the road looks dimmer
I will be your guiding light
I just want to go away with you

  • It will be hard, but it will also be okay.  Take a deep breath and let it out, let it go.