Do you ever hear yourself in a self-talk spiral that finds faults with lament qualities you would enjoy in someone else?
This week has been overly abundant in self-laments and at times more negativity than necessary or appropriate.
- Why do I have to go so deep with so many things? Why do I take a submarine dive into a simple prompt?
- Why am I compelled to feel so deeply? Why aren’t toe dips in the shallow end enough for me?
- Why do I get so passionate about certain subjects that I am a weasel who won’t let go and then wonder why some people turn and walk away, shaking their heads
I had a simple prompt to write about the antagonist for my work-in-progress that I recently finished copyediting and it took me most of the day to come up with a slightly coherent response. Here is a slice of the Instagram post I wrote:
I’ve been struggling with this post today as it isn’t easy to say or admit or deal with and then there is this reality that as a writer I am supposed to be able to write easily.
My antagonist in my WIP (almost done, in final edits) is as much an entity as a human, though in my head there is one scene that replays over and over and over again that involves two fully grown men including a school psychologist basically holding my son in a corner while he was screaming and they were standing there with their arms folded “guarding” a six-year-old-boy who was overwhelmed and unable to process what was happening to him/around him.
The school psychologist who ought to have recognized the behaviors associated with autism spectrum, who under the education code was legally obligated to make a referral to have my son tested – in fact, he ought to have administered the tests – was instead standing over him with his arms folded.
Today I have been imagining what that must have been like for him.
I remember arriving on the scene and breaking through the guard barrier and picking him up and setting him on my lap and rocking him as his crying started tapering off because he was being treated like a human again.
And then the person who has impacted me most in this past year and then into the new year is not a single person, but the shattering of my expectations of what is good and right and expected.
Suddenly a light comes on above my eyebrows:
I am a complex human who loves well, who is active in a variety of spaces and places. I love complexity, unconventionality and deep connection.
My inner wrangling is a reflection of my unmet longings and an opportunity of confessional. Opening myself in soul confession is something that has bit by bottom most recently though at the best of times, authentic confessions have built constructive relationships.
Focus on that true memory: authentic confessions build constructive relationships, soulful friends, faithful and vibrant companions.
It is with people who are not aligned that I have fallen flat.
Here is to laments and the celebrations that come from the light within.
Here is to the antagonists and the inadvertent transformation they spark.
Here is to me, in my wobbly embrace of my narrative, your narrative and her narrative. It feels so good to find my smile after kicking around in this rubble for a day (which I realize now was a well spent day afterall.)
Julie JordanScott is a creative life coach, writer, poet, Mama extraordinaire and mixed media artist whose greatest joys include loving people into their greatness they just aren’t quite able to realize yet. To set up a complimentary exploratory session, please visit here.
She is so thrilled to announce the next session of the Passionate Women’s Writing Circle is open for registration. Find out more and
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