There have been times when I have been sure of myself, to the point I’d put my last dime on myself on a bet between me and the world. There have been times when I have believed in myself so much, I felt no need to even announce what I was doing. As if magically I could manifest whatever success was coming my way without lifting a finger because I believed in my own personal magick that much. I know now that is wrong. I know now that manifestation and creation go hand in hand. Manifestation is in the hands, and the work you do is how you create the life you want.
The future is unsure. The future is always unsure, its always a black abyss, but I cannot even pretend to have a plan. I have a list a mile long of things to do and places to call and money to move… but I haven’t done a thing. I’m paralyzed with fear.
But this is the whole theme of my life. Fear. I’ve been terrorized by my own mind since I was 6 years old. I have been overcoming, conquering and braving my fears my whole life. But somehow, this is the scariest thing yet. So much could happen, and right now, the place I am at spiritually/emotionally is to not form attachments to anything except what is important and let go of all outcomes. Nothing has happened yet. No big breaks, no huge amounts of money in my lap, no savior has come and knocked on my door. No one can save me from this. Only I can create a way out.
I do not feel safe or secure. What was once a moon lit path is now the darkest night. It is a New Moon tomorrow after all. Nothing has illuminated a way forward for now.
I’m an artist, through and through. I am not meant to work for anyone, I’m not a servant to anyone else’s vision. I serve and worship my art. I pray to my higher self for divine inspiration to write and create and express. But I have been doubting myself. If I was religious (like I was formerly) someone might tell me doubting god is a sin. Doubting god is wrong or unhelpful or harmful to my being. And if I believed in a god that might ring true. But I don’t believe in that anymore. I don’t put my faith in a deity, because its just not practical to me any longer.
What can I put my faith in? Myself? I scrolled facebook last night to when I started this blog, I had a vision. I had things I wanted to share and write and say. I had support and I knew there were people who believed in me. But something changed, I don’t know exactly when it happened, but fear and doubt seeped into the cracks of my mind, anger moved into my heart and stopped believing I could do what I wanted to do. I don’t want a job…. I want to write. I want to support myself with writing. I want to create and manifest my own world and my own reality. Typing these words I feel sick. I became so addicted to hope that I stopped moving forward. I binged my heart out on dreams and imagining and when the time came to do, I froze.
I’m a shy type, I don’t have a lot of confidence in myself, I have been wrong about far too many important things and hurt/altered people’s mental in ways I no longer agree with and wish I could go back and change. I listened to a talk the other day about making penance for what an individual has done wrong and maybe that’s what I hope I can do. Maybe I spent so long spewing comforting religious bullshit, that my penance is to now spread the bitter cold truth. Maybe that’s all I’m trying to do here, tell you the truth.
I know I write well, when I’m trying and not just rambling. I know how to communicate clearly. Maybe my fear comes from intimidation. I know I understand things that I didn’t understand before, but maybe I’m wrong. I have been very very wrong. Am I now afraid of being wrong? (“And I’m scared that I talk too much about what I think’s going on / I got away with this, they might drag me away for this / Put me in a cage for this, / I might pay for this / So I just say what I want like I’m made for this / But I’m just afraid some days I might be wrong..” Run the Jewels starts ringing in my head) Maybe I am wrong about God, maybe I am wrong about the abuse I went through in church, maybe I am wrong about the mental torture my step mom put me through. Maybe I’m bitter, maybe I’m blinded, maybe that’s why I’m afraid to write my story. It’s been nearly 8 months now, and I still cant bring myself to talk about it all. I don’t know if anyone cares, I don’t know if I care.
I said something out loud to a client of mine recently. “I may be vulnerable but I don’t like to be perceived as weak.” And maybe that’s just insecurity, and maybe that is weakness after all. So maybe I should just say it, I should just tell you about my religious experience and all the ways it broke me. Maybe I’m alone. But that can’t be true. I cannot be the only one who’s pain was constantly denied and belittled (physical and emotional) I cannot be the only one who was set up to be sexually assaulted and then blamed for what happened. I cannot be the only one psychologically terrified of demons at night (still at 27 years old). I cannot be the only one who had an entire identity crisis because my parents never gave me reality.
I fear being denied. I fear someone lessening my pain, I fear not being believed, because that’s what my only experience has ever been. No one has ever truly understood or believed the depths of the pain I have felt. Not that I need this to be a competition, I just wonder if I can learn something from all of this that can help people like me. I haven’t figured that out yet.
Where is the confident side of me I used to know. There was a time when a microphone was not intimidating and a stage was inviting. I cannot even karaoke anymore.
Maybe I’m afraid because so badly I want to change things bigger than me. Maybe I’m intimidated by that. Maybe I have seen the right things, and experienced the wrong things, and maybe I actually do have the power to blow the whole thing apart. But how does someone take down Christianity. That’s a big bite, babe.
So, how do I feel about myself currently?
I feel like I have potential. I feel like I know the truth. I feel like I have all this material and no direction, no confidence to channel it in a way that makes an impact. I feel like I’m trying to hard while simultaneously not trying at all. I began the rough draft of my novel (finally after 1+ years planning) and I cannot pick it up again… because I feel like it’s not saying enough and I don’t know yet how to save more. I feel like I have electricity in my fingers, but truthfully I am a daughter of lightening.
Then, I feel like nothing truly matters and what I have been through doesn’t truly matter. Mostly because, I have healed a good portion of my own pain. But then I meet some new people all questioning their religion and I think, I know how to help these people, if only I had written down everything I learned. I know this pain, and I know how this pain can be healed. Not by me, but maybe I know the way in which to point people.
Now, I’m kind of seeing my problem. I have this big gigantic cake that I have baked for myself and no idea how to break it down and serve it in bite sized pieces. It all bleeds together. I need concepts, talking points, subjects to expand my mind on. I know a lot about what I know, I just don’t know how to serve it to you. And I don’t know if I can do it, but I do know I can try. That has to be enough for now. I don’t know where to start, because I don’t know where it begins.
My hopeful intention moving forward is just to progress with this story. It’s a mess, and my life is a mess and I cannot seem to get it all organized. I feel like I couldn’t even tell you what about myself matters.
Who am I? Maybe I can begin there.