Elective

I make my own decisions.
And apparently right now I'm choosing to be stuck.
F$#%
I'm sitting at my desk at work, staring at three pages on a word document. That's all that I have so far after ripping apart the previous draft of my proposal.
Did I mention f$#%?
I'm nauseas, but I want to binge. I want to scream at anyone dropping by my door saying all of the cute and ridiculous things that I usually welcome and enjoy.
I hate feeling like this. Like all of my self worth is wrapped up in an advanced degree that I elected to pursue.
What do you do when you find yourself in a corner that you've painted yourself into? Take a few deep breaths and fight like hell until the real you has won. The you that's unafraid and knew that you had this all along.
Breathing. F$@% fear. I've got this.

Butt in the chair

A couple of posts ago I mentioned how ass in the chair time never works for me. Well, today I'm trying to change it.

I blew a meeting with one of my advisors on Tuesday. I was told by my father that I was procrastinating and being ridiculous by having all sorts of travel adventures on my weekends and vacations. That I need to get my priorities straight. My response to all of that bull is PFFFLT!

My very good friend finished last Thursday and she did it on sheer determination. She showed up and I haven't been.

So, tonight, I've found real estate in the children's section of the local B&N. My only interruptions have been creepy elderly gentlemen who for some reason need to check out the children's history and religion sections of the book store (let's face it, they're scoping).
Now, I'm turning off facebook, ignoring twitter, & putting my phone away.
Next, I'm casting a circle and doing an adorable little ritual to cast out the doubts, welcome in the creative juices and supportive articles for my lit review and get my ass focused.
And I'm setting the timer, reminding myself that the process is a blessing and the journey is as enjoyable as I make it.

Wobbly

My feet
They don't know the ground they've walked on for 30 years anymore
My beliefs have come up against hard, contrary fact
Something has changed that I had never wanted altered
A sacred memory is being singed at the corners by an angry, hungry flame
Respite and escape seem impossible
and my only refrain,
hold compassion for those who have it worse, who are suffering greater losses does not soften me, it melts me.
For I am screaming in agony for their losses as well. I am seeking safety and refuge for them in a place I no longer recognize. I have nothing to offer them.

Sacrifice

I'm sitting at the dining room table, fading fast and trying not to kick myself for a particularly bad binge and not using time as wisely as I could have this evening. Fact of the matter is that ass in the chair has never helped me overcome a block. Period, end of story.

This process and this meeting I have with my advisor on Tuesday have me thinking about choices and sacrifice... Don't stop reading here- I'm not going to whine, most of you who know me know that I'm a fan of wining, not whining anymore. What I was going to say before I stopped to make sure you were still reading is that life is reminding me of needing to pee on a long car ride. I'll apologize for the crudeness, but 1, let's face it, universal problem and 2, please don't tell my mom I posted this. So, you have to pee and you're on a highway you're familiar with, but not to third base with yet (know what I'm saying?). You have to pee and you approach an exit. Let's say you're on 81 south in PA and you're approaching Frackville. Now, you know there's a gas station with some fast food attached, but you've been in their bathroom before and they are completely effing sketch. Like so sketch that if there were a tv show ranking ickiest places to pee in America it would make top five in the category of place I feel most likely to get assaulted or catch a 'gift that keeps on giving' downtown in. You get the pic, I'll move on. You have a choice- fight the statistics and pop a squat (feel the sweet burn in your quads) or kegel it up and pray that another materializes.

All peeing aside, this is where I am right now. Not on 81, but in the middle of some really uncomfortable things and I'm trying to figure out if I just go with what's there, suck it up and let it rip or hold it in and hope for somewhere with one of those kick ass dyson hand driers and maybe a Wendy's (who doesn't love dipping fries in a frosty?)?

Here's to making the best decision, making the best of the decision and letting it go. Deep breath.

And this is what sacrifice is for me. It's letting go of something, whether it not it serves me, hurts me or I feel any sort of affinity for it. It's making a choice, knowing that perfect doesn't exist and trying not to drag my feet as I step forward... Because if mom were listening, she'd be yelling 'pick up your feet!'