This mid-life crisis thing.

So.

It's been almost five months since that fateful night at 3 AM, when -- while working as the overnight caregiver for a 91-year-old lady -- I decided it was time to quit my job, rent a studio space, and try to make a creative living before it was too late.

I have learned a lot in the last five months.  I have also learned that I'm on the edge of something -- a completely different Self.

When I was a teenager, I was pretty much the poster child for adolescent angst, and I would often joke that I was having a mid-life crisis.  Yes, even at 12!  Well, I'm pretty sure I've found the real deal at 41.  Or has it found me?  I'm not quite sure.

I've always been highly sensitive, often spending so much time trying to figure out the insides that I don't notice that there are outsides, and that's not something that has changed a great deal as I've gotten older.  (I hesitate to say "grown up," because I think I'm still waiting for that part.)  The only thing is that I've finally learned to recognize when I'm getting too "internally swirly;" I make myself go for a walk and interact with life outside my own head and heart.

I've learned a lot in the last five months.  I've learned that I'm a creative type who needs at least some structure and routine, or else I try to do so many things at once that I can't make any decisions and nothing really gets done.  I've learned that just because I can come up with really fantastic ideas, I'm not necessarily the one with the right skill set (or comfort level) to carry them out.  I've learned that I can get by on very little "spending money."  (I was never really one to shop for the sake of shopping anyway, unless you count books.  Ohhhhhh, books!)  And I've learned that , despite the fact that I have only had my driver's licence for not quite six years, I feel a bit stranded now that I no longer have a (working) car of my own.  (In truth, this last one is making me a little squirrely.)

The photograph was taken a few days ago, at Stevens Beach.  It was very close to high tide (which is a pretty big deal here on the Bay of Fundy), and I wanted to see if it was still coming in or had begun to ebb.  So I planted my toes just at the edge of where the waves seemed to reach and I waited a few minutes.  Hubby and Piper explored the beach and played fetch, and I just stood there essentially playing chicken with the highest tides in the world.  Shortly after I took this photo (and my feet got wet!), I decided it was time to concede defeat.

That's what I do, you see.  I have a tendency to stay put somewhere - whether it's due to complacency, inertia, or a fear of the unknown -- until I absolutely have no choice but to move.  This "flying leap off a cliff" and into a creative life hasn't been easy -- not in the least.  I'm still experiencing quite a number of growing pains.  But the happiness I'm discovering along the way  is outweighing the stress and doubts that bubble up (sometimes violently) from time to time.  Ultimately, I think it's all going to be okay.

Eventually.

 

Breaking the silence of imperfection.

"My Created Life is on hiatus for approximately one week.
See you again in early March!"

For the past seven weeks, that image has been taking the space of my blog.  My face, my voice, my presence -- that's been it.  And I haven't actually written a blog post since February 5.

I've been receiving the occasional tentative email ("Are you okay?!") because it's just not like me to go this long without writing something.  But there have been huge life changes since March 1, and when I shifted the blog to a new server, I wanted it to be brand-spankin' new!  Gorgeous!  Spectacular!  I wanted it to fully represent me and all my weird and wonderful facets!  I wanted to design the whole thing myself!  And I wanted it to be PERFECT.

And that, you see, was the problem.  I was paralyzed by fear of not being able to produce perfection.  And days turned into weeks, and weeks have somehow turned into nearly two months.  Two months of silence.  Of essentially being gagged by myself.

*   *   *

It's been three years since I first launched My Created Life, with the idea of "using what I have within to become who I want to be."  The destination has shifted a couple of times, but I never really got going.  Because I was scared -- of not being good enough.

But really and truly, it's time now.  I turned 41 in early March, and partway through February, during one of those quiet night shifts, I said to the Universe, "If I could find an office space -- not too expensive -- with heat, lights, Internet, and a bathroom, I'd go for it.  I'd take the flying leap."

The next day the Universe presented me with just that in the form of a Facebook status update from a friend.  So I gave my notice at work, rented the space the Universe had handed me with a big red bow, and now I have a studio where I write and create and dream.  I love my little studio, and I love the people who surround me.  But it has taken me almost two months to get this blog back online (because I was scared it wouldn't be good enough), and I still haven't gotten my Etsy shop up and running (because I'm scared my stuff won't be good enough).

Logically I know that people won't ridicule me.  No one is going to throw a virtual rotten egg, and no one will say, "Look at this crap KJ has made.  Who the hell does she think she is?"  But there are voices in my head from a long time ago, and my gut believes them even if my brain doesn't.

So I'm taking a big step here, folks.  I'm going to let you see that I'm imperfect.   I'm going to just put the blog back up as a complete mess because I can't find my old template and I still haven't created a new one I like yet.  Because I'm not going to be silenced by Fear any longer.  Those shrieky voices in my head can go back to their source, and anyone with unsolicited, unnecessary criticism can bite my ass.

Welcome back to My Created Life -- and to my happy little mid-life crisis.

I'm back, baby. :)

A change in tide.

I live along the Bay of Fundy, where we have the highest tides in the world.  If I've learned anything at all from watching the ebbs and flows, it's that things are constantly changing.

I lost my job yesterday.  There's lots I could say about it, but this isn't the place.  It also wouldn't change anything, so aside from saying that I don't believe my dismissal was warranted, we'll just leave it be.

In the meantime, it's a gorgeous day out there and I have a husband and dog who are anxious to go do something fun.

How can I argue with that? :)

At a crossroads.

Some of my friends say I'm brave, that they can't believe how "real" I am on my blog -- that I would post the actual number on my bathroom scale, for example.

Well, to be honest, that little piece of data doesn't bother me.  It's a completely objective thing, how much force the planet needs to exert in order to keep me from floating away into outer space.  I'm not fond of clothes shopping, or how I look, but those are subjective things, and I don't tend to write a lot about those, because I try not to think about them too much.

For forty years, there have been many things I've tried not to think about too much -- to the point that I thought I had dealt with them.  Instead, I'd just covered up the cracks with masking tape and kept going, trying to stay one step ahead of my feelings of pain, guilt, and paralyzing fear.  I just came across a quotation that I'm going to share with you, Gentle Reader: "Deal with your feelings before your feelings deal with you."

I got sucker-punched by my feelings last Wednesday.

If I'd been paying attention, I would have seen it coming.  Looking back on the last five months, I can make a list of moments when I could hear them sneaking up on me, if I'd only been paying attention enough to listen.  Looking back, of course, it's crystal clear.

On Wednesday, after I'd stepped away for more than twenty minutes, a coworker found me holed up in the staff bathroom, sobbing uncontrollably and having no clue how on Earth to get out of there.  I came home, and have been not been back since.  And I'm a mess.  I feel like every experience, memory, emotion I'd ever had had been filed away where I wouldn't have to look at it, and someone has come along, dumped the filing cabinet all over the floor, and turned on a very large fan.  I am not a happy camper.

But since Wednesday, I've slowly come around to realizing that this is an opportunity -- to finally deal with all of this crap and get rid of it, not stuff it away.  Stuffing it away means holding onto it, like hoarding pain.  And why would anyone want to do that?

So as unhappy as I am with feeling this way, not working, worrying about paying my bills, and having no end date in sight, I'm going to actually go through this process this time, rather than trying to "get better" the quickest way possible.  (I've done that before, and it wasn't really "better."  Not even close.)  I'm going to take the time to deal with it, however much time that might be.  I'm not going to put on the fake happy face, and I'm going to refrain from hiding from myself -- as much as that might suck.

Because coming out the other side of this is bound to be a richer, fuller life.  And that's what I'm counting on.