A nice dream

I had a dream last night where I was walking in this boutique-like market place. Upscale hippies, if you will. All clothes colorful, natural, and well-made. I was admiting this mustard yellow wool hat and the family at the booth was talking quietly, smiling at me and each other, and adjusting various items to look busy. I picked up the hat, fingering the softness of the wool felt. I don't wear hats regularly unless it's cold, but this was a NICE hat. Felt like the love was blended right into it.
So I started telling this family that I liked their stuff. The woman said, "Thank you." Then I asked if she made all the items, and she nodded with such pride! Then she told me that she was the sole bread-winner and the four person family thrived on her income from selling these amazing pieces. "Really?" I asked. The whole family nodded.
I felt such a warmth inside me at that point.
Of course then I woke up, but it was such an amazing feeling!
The part of me that adored my same ol' pattern of trying for a bit and then giving up after I'd barraged myself with enough negative self-talk is dying away. She has long out-stayed her welcome. Even when Josh says I should focus more on writing, I feel the pang of my hand being busy creating SOMETHING. I guess it's easy to tell myself it's not worth it. But I miss being in the studio. I dream about making clothes. I dream about an awesome studio space where I am inspired, drinking mug o' tea and trying different color combos. I don't care about making money at this point. I just want to be in the studio and make stuff. Give it to friends, sell a few things online, who knows?

I had a Reiki session tonight and that's another thing I really like. I don't want to have to pick one thing to do. I just want to do it all. Little bits as I go.

So the dream ignited the spark AGAIN and maybe this time, as I am learning about taking care of myself and my NEEDS (of which creativity ranks very high in the whole scheme of things) and listening to that inner voice say "It's okay, just make something."

On that note, it's important, when taking care of my inner child, to listen to her ask for what she DOES want and not only what she doesn't want. And if I am having trouble with motivation or will or self-esteem, it's a good time to turn it over to God.

In OA there's a lot of talk about turning the bad stuff over to God to help us deal with it. But why not also the good stuff? Can't I get some help from the Universe in pursuit of my dreams as well? Of course I can. So I meditate on getting myself to the studio and letting the Universal Inspiration flow through me. I don't care what comes out, just want to keep my hands moving.

And also, want to keep writing. I'm going to the raw potluck this weekend and then I will pitch the article to Ritzy. I also want to start submitting to The Sun and other mags. :) So I need help with that too...

Writing Group and more

I haven't posted yet about my writing group. IT ROCKS. At first I was just happy to have a place and folks to write with and now I feel as though I am actually (and we are) starting down the friendly, intimate road...how exciting. And organic. And not from my own steam! This is a step in the write (!) direction. I do believe writing is something that nourishes me so that I can move away from food, anger, obsession (unless it's with writing...). I really like the time, once a month, when I can show up, hair bedraggled, and listen, share, and write with the group. It's really powerful. I should write a piece about it.

Anyway, it's something that I am looking forward to each month and it gives me hope regarding my life as a writer.

Also, I saw the movie The Secret. It's a bit like this other movie with new agey folks in it, but I don't mind the simplicity with which the folks spoke. I need to hear that I have the power to attract whatever I want in my life. The Law of Attraction is powerful and I can learn to use it to my benefit, rather than deficit.

On that tip, I have felt this gentle nudging to go to the studio. I've also felt a desire to work on stuff, various projects. Not being on sugar I think helps me be more aware to the times when it (my work/the studio) calls to me. At work, I spend more time reading and writing and web surfing than I do working. Yes, this is fun for a while, but I realize that underemployment may also be a problem. I don't necessarily WANT more work per se, but then I need to balance that out when I am not at work. The studio pops in my mind.
I do feel some sort of shame in wanting to make stuff. Mostly because I always want to move into the aspect of selling the stuff I make and then I am instantly overwhelmed and therefore do nothing. Our studio is great, but half of it is vacant (other tenants haven't been there in months, but they are supposed to be paying rent and if they are not, then fine. If they are, then we shouldn't take over their area). I am considering outside work to cover any additional payments we'd have if we took over the whole rent.
Part of me knows that fear is keeping me from moving forward into owning the whole space. What if it costs too much for us? What if we end up not being able to pay? What if????

The Law of Attraction comes into play here. I definitely don't live abundantly in that way. We are always "steps away" from poverty in my mind. ACK! The Law of Attraction isn't just for good people, or worthy people. It's for people who spend time each day seeing themselves attracting what they want: new green house, life free from fear, success with selling handmade items, etc. There is no limit to abundance. So of course I can have as much as I want! And especially, if it means that I am working happily and successfully in matters that mean something.
I have this job with SCBI because I wanted a job where I could be supported while I pursued my other more creative interests. Now's the time!
ACTION!

Friendship Through Blogs

I have a lot of friends who blog. Okay, a lot, not accurate. Maybe a few.
In any case, we have slowed our communication from phone to IM to email to blog. I don't know what's happening to one friend unless I read her blog. I originally wanted to read it because it seemed like a good way to get to know her writing...and now, almost every time, I want to cry my eyes out after an entry.

Another friend writes really well, but his blogs are sporatic and when he is busy, I am left wanting. Most friends abandon their blogs after a while...maybe they feel like no one is listening. I am. I want to.

What happens to us? Where do we slip away to? The mind can hold so much...I guess I'd be afraid of unearthing it. But alas, I know that the darkness will remain dark until I shine a light. And it may not be pretty at first.
Doing any kind of moral inventory (I do it often in my mind) is hard work. But I also know that it weighs me down to know that I told an old boyfriend that I hoped that he would never know love in his life again. Wow. I was a hurt kid. I told another kid (also a former boyfriend) in my 6th grade class that I hoped he died of cancer, like my dad, and then promptly shoved him up against the lockers. Double wow. I lied to my family about being sexually abused. It's not considered 'omission' when it affects others, right? That's just lying. I stole money and just never talked about it to the person. I haven't paid people back. Countless times. It'll all come out in the process, line by line. I will have to look at the thing I have tried so hard to cover up. I might even have to look at pictures and read entries (my own homework, not the 12 steps) of myself so that I can get a good idea of who I was then. UGH. I'm only 29, but it seems like it could be a long list. I never stood up for my brother when my mom hit him and it wasn't his fault. I DID provoke him. And I didn't think he would get hit. I wouldn't play with my little brother several times when he was younger and I remember the heartbreak it caused him, and I am truly, truly sorry. I get my own medicine because sometimes now he doesn't have time for me. I wrote a nasty note about my stepdad, which was later found, photocopied, and maniacally placed around my room by my mother. I never asked for forgiveness around that. It's all coming.

I have been incognito for several days. Without Josh around, I tend to stop socializing. Or I socialize too much and I am sad that I petered away my alone time. But Josh is gone and I have no real desire to DO anything. I have been over-OA-ing it for a few days. I am eager to clean out my personal cobwebs and feel frustrated that I have not started. Another thing to leave before completion, I wonder? Maybe. Well, no. NO. I will do the 12 steps even if I am not an overeater, just an unconscious eater. I don't care if I AM an overeater...the label is not what I want, I want the relief. I want the connection to spirit. I want to not relate to my friend who hides her depression behind cute clothes, stylish shoes, amazing food, and a killer smile. I want to show people who I am, warts and all, and then get the fuck on with it. I don't want to move to Europe with a heavy bag. I want to go with a light backpack, taking only what will serve me. Literally and figuratively.

Probably no surprise to you, I am realizing that I really want to write about my life. I find it interesting. Sure, that's self-centered in a way. But take into consideration that I don't feel like I have been there for most of it. Having a stellar memory has almost made the memorizing of my life more important than my life itself. Ah. I know strange details about the past that are perfect for picking through...I just don't. Man, it seems dark in there.

I always laugh when I tell people about my "little habits" as a kid: getting up early to play by myself so I wouldn't be disturbed, buying MY OWN kitchen items because I didn't want to use my parents' stuff (it was messy or burnt or lost), having two imaginary friends that I mediated (this one is especially interesting...), feeling nostalgia for a stethescope my dad gave to me from a "friend" (which was really a doctor trying to save him from brain cancer). Oh there are more. So many more. It's like I am telling people about another kid. A weird kid. A kid who is obviously sad and lonely...not me! I wonder what it will be like to connect those things.
I am afraid to read the tombs of my life that I wrote just so I could read them again. I am afraid of finding out how long I have really been sleeping. I am afraid of being as sad as my friend.

I am afraid because I want there to be something on the other side of taking a moral inventory. I want to be able to say that there is some relief, forgiveness, lightening of the load. I simply want to be able to live life in the fucking PRESENT.

I won't write well until I can look at myself. I won't be able to have any kind of relationship with my future kids until I stare my past, my follies, straight in the face. I have to admit that I am only human, and that I will stay human. I have to admit that my humanity includes all kinds of mistakes. Until I go there, I won't ever get there.

I'm kind of depressing myself. I relate to my friend...we both like to hide. The other one likes to seek us out. We don't always like that, even though sometimes we crave it. I have other hiding friends.