I tell the nervousness and fear rolling around in my gut to fuck off. They don’t listen. Those unruly bastards. Toddler twins, destroying my digestive tract.
So I paint cats.
My inner artsy fartsy is swimming to the surface. I buried her deep within when I was younger. Buried her in the recesses of low self worth and other victim mentality jargon. Key word: “I”……..no one made me do it, I submitted to stuffing down my authenticity.
Anxiety is also rearing her head, begging for attention, so I take the time to observe her. There are things that need to be seen.
I take her on walks, dragging her behind me on a chain. She bumps along in the gravel until I accept her as part of myself. In that instant the chain dissolves and she becomes my twin, walking next to me, no longer a disfigured creature being dragged through the mud.
In this time of slowing down, she’s showing me I have a deep rooted fear of people. I’ve kept it somewhat at bay by staying busy for much of my life. I have a raging case of social anxiety that I’ve kept hidden behind the masks of life. (Mom, workout fanatic, born again Christian, nutrition guru, store clerk, office manager, new age spirituality mountain hippy chick, housekeeper, fibromyalgia, depression, insomnia, divorced woman supporting herself for the first time, introvert, backpacker, soon to be homeless person etc)
If I’m wearing a mask, I don’t have to engage as myself. I put on different personas depending on the task at hand, living my life as a script. Allowing myself to be pulled apart in a million scripted directions.
Underneath it all we are just people.
The authentic me is working on crawling out of the cave I’ve stuffed her into. The light can be blinding after being in the dark for so many years. She’s been out a few time,s but retreats when the demands of life push her back inside.
It’s uncomfortable to look at ourselves but it’s the most important work we will ever do. Having life’s rug pulled out from under you is one way to go about it.
For today, I’m going to live life with out a script. I’m going to eat processed food, drink a glass of wine, go for a few walks, get lost in my own thoughts, spend too much time on my computer, I’m not going to meditate or read anything spiritual, I’m not going to take any vitamins, I’m going to pace around like a caged animal and give my companions Anxiety and fear proper names. Fred and Louise. I’m not going to feel guilty about any of it.
Guilt is a shit filled sewer. The stinky possibilities are endless.