Greetings, Internet. I write to you from a new, previously unfathomable land: Happiness!
‘Twas a vast and uncharted territory, once thought to be nothing but glorious myth – but hark! I’ve found solid footing, consistent grounding, and been able to make lasting and positive changes in my life. Big things have happened! Big choices have been made! And yours truly hasn’t wimped out! I am conquering fears and marching forward, with the help and love and guidance of the most incredible people I know.
That being said, I would seem that when I sit back and think about my new progress, I don’t cope super well with this bit of life success I seem to have come across. It would appear that my nervous system is having trouble distinguishing celebratory excitement from extreme danger. Much of this terror may stem from previous experiences with feelings of success. Years of feeling like the floor would fall out any second has trained my body to treat all calms as the calm before a storm (and typically a terrible storm at that).
As you can imagine, this has not helped to foster an atmosphere of tranquil creativity.
The combination of feeling like I’m going to die and repressing my happy feelings for fear of looking like an idiot, has made it nearly impossible for me to get my ideas out in a coherent way. Every time I sit down to try to write or draw something, I feel like chaos and darkness are going to erupt out of me like some sort of natural disaster laced with PCP and everything I love is going to die instantaneously.
The same thing happened when I decided that I wanted to be a musician and then a journalist and then a musician again. (Side note: I also at one point wanted to be a dolphin trainer at SeaWorld. This has nothing to do with the point I am making, but I still think that career path would’ve been SO AWESOME, so it was clearly worth mentioning. Carry on.)
People: Oh hey! How’s that music thing going? Make it big yet??
Me: Oh, um … yeah, I’m just exploring other things right now. There are a lot of other doors opening for me, you know? Besides, my vocal chords don’t mature until my late twenties anyway, so … (*and they’ve already tuned out*).
Other People: Hi! How are you?
Me: Pretty great, actually!
Other People: Oh yeah? Still in NYC, huh? You on Broadway?
Me: … um, well, no, but — (*cue Other People’s faux-excited expressions to faux-crest fallen pity faces*)
More Other People: Oh my gosh, I haven’t seen you in forever!!!!! So, did you like, get on American Idol or something yet???!?!??
Me: … No.
I want this time to be different. I know things can work out. For the first time in what feels like forever, I know exactly which piece of chocolate to pick first from the See’s candy box (it’s THESE). And still, I’m utterly terrified of waking up one morning to find some guy standing over my bed with a flashing neon sign that reads: “HAHA. No one actually likes you!!! It was all a joke and you fell for it!!! You sugar-crazed idiot!”
So, I’ve been keeping most of my excitement bottled up inside even though I desperately want to tell pretty much anyone who will listen about how great my life is right now. But, I’m learning about patience and self-control, so I won’t … and I won’t partly because I’m slightly superstitious and partly because I believe in at least maintaining the appearance of modesty.
All this to say — I made a promise to a certain soulmate of mine that I would blog once a week. I can’t even tell you how many half started blog posts I have tried to get going since last fall, and now that my creativity is slowly becoming more fluid and heightened, I know writing on here will make me happy. And hopefully, you too.
To consistency & creativity!! To chocolate & SeaWorld!!