Sunday, November 9, 2014
The truth is I'm scared, I'm sure I'll get this novel done and this script done and people will know I did know what I was talking about and I could do it. But until then I'm scared that I will keep living like this day in and day out. I'm scared of the power bill this winter I scared of the drive way and it's need to be plowed I'm afraid of singing to loud and upsetting the neighbours I'm afraid
of getting into that cab by myself and how the cab driver will think of me all alone and not able to do everything 100 percent by myself what people will think of me if I need help.
The truth is I keep going and it rots my sleep. It rots my health because I'm on anti depressants it rots my friendships because I'm so busy "hiding it all in" that I have nothing to talk to. SO scared that people are judging my life that I don't talk about it.
Awake I'm not afraid but deep inside I break through a lot of barriers just to eat breakfast in the morning, just to take the cat out for a walk, afraid that she'll dash out in the road. Chase the neighbours cat, chase the cat under the porch.
I'm afraid I can't afford music lessons and groceries after rent is paid that I've used too much of my savings for fun this summer for the unexpected like stepping on the lap top and having to get a new one.
And yet I sing and layers and layers of emotional garbage fall from me and I feel free and I feel like I know who I am. And I know that although I may not be able to get that new couch I wanted I get that new me I wanted. I am scared I don't practice enough. I'm scared I haven't written enough over the past 15 years trying to pull my shit together. My ego, in my dreams , goes all the things that could go wrong if I'm successful, and because I'm not, and I just want to get this shit written down.
When I went to the city last weekend I had nightmares for two days of not knowing where I was when I woke up of living in many different houses with many different people. When I lived in the city, in different houses and different people, all I wanted was to be alone and when I was alone I was frightened. And I was alone, but it didn't stop me from doing things, I fought through the fear and it affected me other ways.
This is the first year (and coffee helps A LOT) where I can come home and spend the night awake and writing. This is the first year in a long time I can focus and do things. This is the first time I can lead my mind to write and create and be strong enough to lock myself in a little room with two cats and write. But it's frightening. What if the words aren't there. What if they are, what if after I get it all done I have to do all this editing. (I looked at what I've got so far and it needs a lot of editing.) It doesn't happen over night, nothing has happened for me over night everything has taken time and that time is frightening.
So deep breath Ms Thang You're afraid, so is most of the population, you just admitted it now be with the fear so you can get through it and not have it control your sleeps anymore. Not let it control your friendships and your life.