Jagged Edges

Last night I stood out on my deck for a long while, watching the colours change as the sun set, and I tried to analyze what has been bothering me. My emotions are right at the surface, and I know it has to do with Ava finishing Grade One and moving on, and it relates to my transition out of my job and into my writing, but there was something else persistently nagging at my spirit and it was a relief to pinpoint it.

I look at people sometimes and indulge in a fantasy that their life is simple and easy; that others are content with their lives and don't want more out of them. I have always fought with myself over my dreams. I don't wish to be without them (most of the time), because they propel me forward and offer a deeper sense of purpose and meaning to my life. But every so often, they poke me with their rough edges, and remind me of how far I have to go and how much time I've already wasted.

This is one of those times. This fear sneaks up, gently at first, whispering in my ear, and then when I am lulled into a sort of stupor, my dreams hit me over the head with a 2x4 of failure and abject panic. That sordid underbelly to the bubbly joy of dreams is the side of this process I could do without. It was easier to pretend in obscurity for many years that my life was good even without making movies and seeing my dream of being a professional writer turn into reality. Now I'm putting it out there, this most fragile, vulnerable part of myself, and riding the coattails of optimism is fear that I'm not good enough, and that I will try and fail.

Waiting is very hard for me. I feel as though I've wasted enough time not writing, and now that I'm writing all of the time, I want the selling stage to be easier than it is. It's painful. It messes with my confidence and my mind. It allows space for all of the dark doubts to grow and shadow out the good stuff in my mind and heart. I must focus on the good things; on what I have accomplished versus what has yet to be done. Fear is the enemy of hope, and all enemies must be faced and fought. Bringing anxiety into the light is the best way to send it running, for terror likes the dark.

It's a beautiful day, and William and I are going to have a picnic lunch with friends. Ava is heading to school for her fourth last day until September. Tonight I have my final stamping group, and I'm ready to move on from this monthly commitment.

I know that Rome wasn't built in a day, and dreams take years to sprout and grow. I can see progress along the road I want to travel down. I will force patience onto myself and learn from this period of waiting. If I give myself this mantra, perhaps I will shake the black mood that has plagued me this week and find some of my old joy and faith. I will, I will, I will...those are my words for today, and hopefully they will round off a few of my jaggedly painful edges.