Write and you shall receive.

 You should see the mountains out of our windows this morning. They are spectacular. Still so much snow and a bright blue sky. I am going to miss this apartment if we indeed do move to the Golden Gate Bridge city. Wow. I can’t believe it might actually be happening. It is kind of crazy. That I could potentially go to grad school to become a healer.

I will get my interview dates soon and J and I will get tickets. He is going to fly down with me wich is soooo sweet and will definitely cut down with my anxiety level. Also it will be fun to explore the city that we might move to together.

It’s been a rough last couple of days. Lots of self judgment. Bad sleep. Waking up in the middle of the night with sentences from the Angela Shelton script echoing in my head. Thinking about the events. Unable to believe that they are happening and that I actually created the opportunities to make them happen. This is definitely a huge step in my healing.

As J was saying the other day, he has seen me go from healing and telling my story privately to telling and healing with inner circles to telling and healing in public. It is huge. I can feel that I am reaching an edge but I am not sure what that edge is. It’s almost as if on the other side of this, there is a big blank slate and I don’t know what will go on it. It’s as if there was no reason to go on once I am past that huge step of sharing publicly. But of course there is so much on that other side. I am just scared because it is so much unknown. It involves thriving and taking more action. Having more joy. More expression. Being a woman. Feeling like one. It is so foreign from the experience I have had for most of my life when I was encased in silence, fear and zero positive beliefs about myself.

Lately when the demons surface, they don’t stay as long but they come on stronger. It’s frightening.

Lots of crying. Yesterday, sitting on my yoga mat , before yoga, I just lost it. I felt I didn’t really know why. Part of me was thinking how mediocre I am at everything I do. It is not true and I can see that now that I have had a bit of space and a good 24 hours of rest and rejuvenation time. But when the feelings of low come lately, it is so difficult to remind myself of the gentleness and care. The sabotage comes on strong. Thankfully, I am able to pull myself out of it a lot faster. Because I see it happening. I see what I am doing to myself when it happens and I am usually able to break the cycle by doing something in spite of what the voices say.

If I can drag myself to the gym or the mat or if I can take the time to take a bath, do some writing or cook myself a healthy meal, usually that kicks me back into my positive self. It is odd how that works.

On the blank slate there is : grad school. A new city. Joy. Scooter riding. Dharma punx meditation retreats. Trips to Los Angeles. A cute cute house that I share with J. A bunny perhaps even. There are teachers and mentors who nurture and challenge me all at once. There are dinner parties with friends. There are day trips with J. Long long love making sessions. There is a small boy or a girl who is my child. And J’s. There are wedding anniversaries. Birthday cake in bed. Trips to France. Trips to Maine. Trips to India. There are communities where I make a difference. There is art. Art. Art. Art that I want to make. My memoirs. My solo show. My plays. Naplwrimo. Voice over work. poems. Slam poems. Sharing. Intimacy. Spontaneity. There is fish and chips and trips to Moma. Trips to New York city. Meeting the dalai lama. There are dreams that wrap me in soft embrace of comfort and remind me that I still have a lot of life to live and that 36 is not too late. That it is never too late. To live and love. To help. To smile. To reach out. To be vulnerable. To listen. To meditate. To create a dance piece. To write a song. It is never too late to begin again and again. To pick up a Natalie Goldberg book. Or morning pages. To go on artist dates. To share one’s truth. Always. With compassion, courage and forgiveness.