Creative Life Midwife

Inspiring Artistic Rebirth

Let’s Make Friends: Allow Your Inner Committee to Work With You, Not Against You

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One of my weaknesses in past explorations of narrative is that I would have insights and discoveries and I wouldn’t return to them.

Now I am returning to them (close to) daily. I start with reading the most recent entry, take a sentence, and continue with it.

I know it challenges people to think their Inner Critic wants them to succeed or what is perceived as their ‘negative side” wants them to do well and yet – when we choose that as truth, more transformation magic happens.

Read on – to see how you may befriend Your Inner Committee: written #5for5BrainDump style. The opening line comes from my last writing here. 

Every part of you wants you to succeed and many of us here, on the outside, do, too.

The show was called Herman’s head, or in my memory that is what it was called. The lead character was named Herman and the supporting cast members were primarily different parts of his thinking practice or process.

Now that I think of it, this is also sort of like the fairly recent animated movie, “Inside/Out.”

Anyway, while we may have different names for the parts of our inside – different characters, different ideas, different thoughts and opinions, I know each of us has some sort of committee where the players seem to move us forward differently.

I have Little Miss Nicey Nice for example who is overly nice. And was how I thought I was supposed to be in every circumstance in every moment of my life.

I am pleasant and kind and thoughtful regularly and she springs from Little Miss Nicey Nice, but she is a lot more sincere and a lot less like Eddie Haskell, the Girl Version.

I also have an inner critic who is like Miss Pizarro, one of my third grade teachers who was particularly awful she used the phrase “You will never…” and it seered into my mind and for whatever reason I believed her. My sin against humanity that I would never… improve upon was that nasty inability to make a cursive letter “R” up to her level of satisfaction. (I will call her Miss Bizarro).

I also have a little me who hides in the closet and prays the object provoking my fear will pass and won’t notice me. I can tell from the tears in my eyes as I write of her, this is still fresh and I haven’t dealt with her as much as Miss Nicey Nice and Miss Bizarro.

She wants to be heard, So this week, I will make space to hear her.

I can do that in five minutes increments.

I’ve gone over my 5 minutes this morning.

My hands sit on my lap, in silence, which is sometimes a point of surrender and sometimes a point of hiding.

I didn’t expect to bump into a point of personal development or growth, this was supposed to be for you, my reader, to explore the characters that sculpt your narrative.

I’m going to get up from my desk and wash dishes.

I will write more of this later. Please hold me to it and I will hold you to sharing about your committee in short, yes you can do it, five minute chunks.

Julie Jordan Scott inspires people to experience artistic rebirth via her programs, playshops, books, performances and simply being herself out in the world.  She is a writer, creative life coach, speaker, performance poet, Mommy-extraordinaire and mixed-media artist  whose Writing Camps and Writing Playgrounds permanently transform people’s creative lives. Watch for the announcement of new programs coming in soon!

 To contact Julie to schedule a Writing or Creative Life Coaching Session, call or text her at 661.444.2735.

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Overnight Discoveries: from Choking on Fear to Long Awaited Insights. Yes, Easy Does It

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It had gone unnoticed.

It has probably been there for several days, this actual glob (for lack of a better term) of not wanting to give voice to anything for the past few days, since the nightmares started. Three nights in a row of troublesome dreams that don’t seem to want to let go.

Processing in the morning with Pegi, my long-time, ever patient friend during the unexpectedly eye opening app known as Snap Chat.

I heard it while I had a teddy bear face, I believe, and a squeaky voice. A slight almost unconscious clearing of my throat. A choking back, a holding on of something or nothing or I don’t know I just know it was there and while I am working through the depth of this

It is at that point where I think I will just go back to where and what I was no matter how badly it sucked maybe feeling better isn’t worth feeling the choking sensation I felt.

My deep awareness of choking came not from a past life, but from a question asked by my therapist and I believe a memory – a place I visited when I went to Katherine’s wedding. A space where I almost choked to death as a child on a gum ball.

The exact space where my mother worked diligently to save my life was now the entry way to a Starbucks, the Grand Union now long gone.

 

i sit with my hands folded, waiting, tired, the tired not being real but being a block – a not wanting to go here and the choking in my throat my shadow side – whatever name you want to put on it that the strong intentional me knows is a barricade over the door marked “Transformation! This way to feeling so much better! This cloggy thing is temporary like how you have learned to use a plunger to get rid of blocks in drains when you used to helplessly call someone because you couldn’t do it and now you can!”

I realize then I never set my timer. Naturally. This was supposed to be a five minute writing in a carefully created container so I would be able to stop without falling apart.

(I set this writing aside and came back to it the next morning.)

7:15 am the next day. That choking sensation is a reminder from my most animal self, “This is what it feels like when you were dying. Beware. You don’t want to come close to death again.”

So no matter how irrational my adult brain is, no matter what I know as a smart, in step, working consistently on self-growth version of me, this protective animal brain pops in and chokes me to remind me, “You came close once, don’t risk it again.”

The thing is, when I don’t risk – when I don’t confront my darkness and bring it into the light so I may come to know it in a way that stirs and builds and constructs and translates and somehow makes good – I risk even more.

When I sit on the edge of choking, I live in fear of it.

When I instead say to my visceral animal self, “I know this is scary and I know we can and will survive and it will be so much more dynamic than we could ever imagine just please trust  and  be invigorated and become whole with me again so that we may have the impact we were meant to have all along…”

This is how the process of re-orientation begins. This is when we may get back into step with all aspects of ourselves – the afraid choking side of ourself who longs for reassurance and the bold, brash one who speaks without thinking and sometimes destroys bridges before you’ve crossed them.

I remember my acting teacher coaching me, when I was literally petrified in my performance. I felt outclassed and stupid in my first musical and he said, “What are you so afraid of? Every person here wants you to succeed.”

Every part of you wants you to succeed and many of us here, on the outside, do, too.

I rest my hands off the keyboard again. Another writing time of five minutes (plus a few extra) and I went from choking and being afraid and not wanting to go further to having an enormous, long needed insight.

by the way, if you wondered what happened with the bad dreams: I didn’t have any nightmares last night. I dreamed of sharing a meal around a table with friends. I dreamed about having a positive experience at Samuel’s school. I dreamed of talking to a friend I’ve been missing lately. I dreamed of expanding the circle because what we originally thought was just right was too small.

I dreamed I wasn’t afraid and I didn’t have to choke.

I can write, reflect and meditate. Wake up and write again and feel better.

Julie Jordan Scott inspires people to experience artistic rebirth via her programs, playshops, books, performances and simply being herself out in the world.  She is a writer, creative life coach, speaker, performance poet, Mommy-extraordinaire and mixed-media artist  whose Writing Camps and Writing Playgrounds permanently transform people’s creative lives. Watch for the announcement of new programs coming in soon!

 To contact Julie to schedule a Writing or Creative Life Coaching Session, call or text her at 661.444.2735.

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Spiraling Up, Higher: An Unexpected and Glorious Reward from Putting Words on the Page

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Yesterday I wrote this:

So I sit back in my chair and listen to my body.

I remember being so swept up in how lovely the attention felt, especially directed at what I was enjoying as a part of this adventure we took together. This was magical, I thought, this was intellectual and spiritual and nature oriented and heart expanding.

Today, I sat back to write more, to write again. A lot happens in life OFF the page when we allow our words to flow through us onto the page, freely.

This morning as I was driving home I had a distinctive feeling in my body the letting go process had been effective.

I thought about the circumstances that yesterday had been perplexing and still edged with freckles of discomforted and sadness. This morning, it was as if the frayed parts and the scabs had healed or if not healed, there was no pain associated anymore.

This isn’t unlike the melanoma cancer scar on my face which I don’t think about much anymore beyond it just being there and occasionally warranting an explanation when brave people just meeting me ask about it.

In sitting with my experience this week and being brave enough to write it and speak it – not in great detail but naming it with boldness and anger and energy other than romanticized notions of lost love I was able to move through it in ways I wanted to in the past and somehow never was able to get there.

I would get close – so close – and then put my hands down by my sides again. I would reach toward resolution and integration, and that would frighten me so I would stop.

Here is a biggie: I would stop so that I wouldn’t forget the good. I would stop critiquing or standing up to say “Hey, this was bad” because the sweet was such a gift I didn’t want to forget how that great stuff felt.

Ironically, if that not-so-big-bad wolf was having a conversation with me right now, he would claim what he was here to teach me was to only remember the good because that is what is important.

I haven’t forgotten the pain.

I haven’t forgotten the forcefulness claimed as play or the rules based never according to what was mutually decided _ I have simply taken away the power they once held.

Why is this a significant victory?

Because in integrating the power of these circumstances back into my intentional life narrative, I reclaim what was taken from me not consentually, but by a destructive force claiming itself as healing.

Monday I sat at this very same desk with so much anger I very easily could have broken things – or people’s spirits – from spite and the ruthful destructiveness of abhorrence on fire.

Less than 48 hours later, I am able to reclaim my power over the aspects of me I had given over and continue this process with confidence.

I’m not quite able to translate into words the peace this has created in me, but it’s coming. It’s coming soon.

Stay tuned.

Julie Jordan Scott inspires people to experience artistic rebirth via her programs, playshops, books, performances and simply being herself out in the world.  She is a writer, creative life coach, speaker, performance poet, Mommy-extraordinaire and mixed-media artist  whose Writing Camps and Writing Playgrounds permanently transform people’s creative lives. Watch for the announcement of new programs coming in soon!

 To contact Julie to schedule a Writing or Creative Life Coaching Session, call or text her at 661.444.2735.

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Restoring Power to Where Power Belongs

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“Any power this brutish beast has held will be finished. It will be exhilarating. It will be enlivening. It will be freeing beyond my current understanding of what freedom means.”

The quote above is writing from yesterday. I’ve devoted myself to writing out my personal narrative – and take direct aim at the self-destructive aspects of it so that I may fearlessly and fully express myself in all ways.

It is interesting what has happened today regarding this particular memory.

I have started rationalizing, refreshing “the good side” which is absolutely present. There were and are good memories and there are some practices I continue because of this friendship.

It is my habit to revisit what feels good and ignore what is not good, what is hurtful, what caused pain and is at risk of causing more pain.

So I sit back in my chair and listen to my body.

I remember being so swept up in how lovely the attention felt, especially directed at what I was enjoying as a part of this adventure we took together. This was magical, I thought, this was intellectual and spiritual and nature oriented and heart expanding and sure, there were aspects of it that were troubling and it is so easy to set those troubling aspects aside when one has been starved of the other constructive aspects for such a long time.

A pro and con list won’t work when one is moving deeply into soul space. It isn’t measurable in the same way.

Our society has a history of protecting the powerful from critique and the ones the powerful targets meanwhile is questioned about everything about the circumstance.  It is like a person “gas lighting” byu others and by themselves to use the popular term from a long-ago movie where a man who seems like an honorable human is actually torturing his wife and making her fear she is going insane.

This has been a good day.

I will return tomorrow, for more. Refreshed by a good night’s sleep and some rest and replenishment, I will be ready.

 Julie Jordan Scott inspires people to experience artistic rebirth via her programs, playshops, books, performances and simply being herself out in the world.  She is a writer, creative life coach, speaker, performance poet, Mommy-extraordinaire and mixed-media artist  whose Writing Camps and Writing Playgrounds permanently transform people’s creative lives. Watch for the announcement of new programs coming in soon!

 To contact Julie to schedule a Writing or Creative Life Coaching Session, call or text her at 661.444.2735.

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Flashback: Turn – Look Back – Flash Forward Again, Better

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Please pardon my lack of polish in this writing.

It was written primarily in a five minute brain dump with some editing for (hopefully) clarity as I continue to work through the process of rewriting (rethinking, recrafting, resculpting) my life narrative.

In making this commitment to rewrite my narrative – to let go of any aspects of it that cause me harm or keep me from being a complete expression of myself – I am sailing way out of any semblance of safe harbor with this one.

I am wholeheartedly devoted to bring this to light, to stop the memory of having even the tiniest splinter of control over who I am now and what I bring to the world via my life work. Doing this publicly keeps me on course. It is helpful to know people may find some form of cathartic experience through the words I present here.

“No person is your friend who demands your silence, or denies your right to grow.”
Alice Walker

It was one of those “things” those incidences I talk about that happened ten years ago that contributed to the wall I built stone by stone, thought by thought that became more and more difficult to deconstruct.

To be called a best friend and then stop communicating when most needed? What friend or even kind stranger does that?

This is not a friend. This is an abuser.

This is a long coated grey wolf growling and spewing while blanketing himself in the soft, downy fur of a gentle sheep’s clothing.

This is someone espousing spiritual principals who doesn’t intimately know any of basics beyond self-importance.

I suppose for some self-importance is a spiritual principal, but for the wide-eyed lover of humanity I tend to be, I couldn’t see the fangs of ego, the disturbing breath of self-centeredness when I was up close.

I saw the curly softness, the close attention to who I was, the curiosity and what felt like connection which was actually not unlike the hunting methods of a wolf. I couldn’t see these qualities, I just knew the profound ache the hunter left in its wake.

I gave myself five minutes to write this and my hands sit, in front of the keyboard, unwilling to move anymore.

They don’t want to go where it would be best to go in order to leave this poison behind because the risk of poking around in the depth of that pain feels like too much to attempt without a sherpa.

The timer goes off, very few words written.

I will return to complete this cycle.

I will be so grateful to scrape the last scrap off my plate.

Any power this brutish beast has held will be finished. It will be exhilarating. It will be enlivening. It will be freeing beyond my current understanding of what freedom means.

 

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Like a Beloved Fairy Tale, I Banish You: Scary Darkness & Welcome Light-Dark-Love

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“Confront the dark parts of yourself, and work to banish them with illumination and forgiveness. Your willingness to wrestle with your demons will cause your angels to sing.”

August Wilson

I’ve had some huge breakthroughs for the, well, the last week has been exceptional but really since the new year started.

I have been practicing taking a stand for myself in ways I never would before and now…. it really is like that old affirmation I would say (and not believe) says “Every day in every way, better and better and better” in the past I would have said “except for me”.

The same spirits who encouraged me to pursue theater just nudged me to say “especially me.” I normally would not have confessed this post script. It sounds pitiful and sophomoric.

Who am I to decide pitiful and sophomoric are destructive (negative, bad)?

Yesterday was February 9. The first day I was aware of every moment and was content, every moment. I was reflective and contemplative and not excrutiatingly sad.

This almost feels too good to be true.

This almost feels impossible.

And it is possible. And it is good. I ate chocolate cake with Emma as a stand in birthday cake and when the coffee was too hot to enjoy with my cake, I left a full cup there without blinking.

This feeling of contentment is quite a contrast to the more familiar sensations when I have felt sad and broken and unworthy.

I was sad and broken and I would have argued and offered evidence as to my unworthiness, offered proof given to me repeatedly by those in the know of what it means to be devalued, unwanted. For me the worst feeling of all was unblessed, passed over, one the others have given up on or left behind.

Marlena didn’t die because I deserved to be punished, she just died. The facts are the umbilical cord which was designed to bring her life at some point got tangled up and stopped offering her life.

I didn’t do anything wrong, I didn’t deserve to be flogged or diminished. There was nothing I could do to change this and even though I could say this in the early aftermath, in the years later I myself got tangled into the web of “Well, if it wasn’t me than why did it have to happen to me?”

Sometime between January 1 and now I have been able to surrender my perceived punishment as well as this idea of Marlena’s death happening “to me.”

It happened. It is tragic. It is epic. It has influenced nearly everything in my life in some way since then. I have been successful at some tasks and projects since then and I’ve had some failures. Other people right here in this world have the same track record with completely different circumstances.

Yesterday, my daughter who never lived outside my womb was able to release her blessing to me because I finally opened my arms fully to receive it.

Her life, even lived only in my womb, was and is and will continue to be significant.

I have been so angry with myself, so unwilling to forgive myself for something I couldn’t impact. It was like feeling the need to take responsibility for my blue eyes or responsibility for my nose being the shape it is.

I wasn’t able to speak the anger for a variety of reasons – being afraid of anger, not knowing how to be constructive with anger, distrusting anger, not knowing the language of anger – and more.

The thing is – in working to rewrite my narrative and reframe my life experiences not into positives but into meaning that goes beyond good and bad or positive and negative – my life feels better. More aligned, more awake and alive – better than it was before “this crash” or “that crisis” or “that great celebration” or what any labels call it forth.

This transformation is in that “it is” category and it is more than that. More. It is more like “it is love.”

This is why I am going to devote myself to the daily spiritual practice of writing and “reporting in” because I know there is great value in that, both for me and for those of you seeking to rewrite your narratives, too, and fall back in love with your lives.

One paragraph, one photo-taken, one sketch, one poem read, one play experienced, one conversation, one new place discovered at a time we fall back in love with our lives.

I’m so grateful you are here.

Julie Jordan Scott inspires people to experience artistic rebirth via her programs, playshops, books, performances and simply being herself out in the world.  She is a writer, creative life coach, speaker, performance poet, Mommy-extraordinaire and mixed media artist whose Writing Camps and Writing Playgrounds permanently transform people’s creative lives. Watch for the announcement of new programs coming soon!

Contact Julie now to schedule a Writing or Creative Life Coaching Session, call or text her at 661.444.2735.

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Finding Comfort in the Facts: Rewriting My Narrative

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 I started this series to document the shifts that happen as I seek to rewrite the narrative that shapes my life, especially in relationship to a domino sequence of events from nearly ten years ago that created a wall of sorts I haven’t been able to move through. Revisiting the meaning I add to each vignette empowers me to claim my life experiences and create a door through the wall so that I may come to integrate the bricks into a new mosaic, perhaps into a path back into the light where I used to be most at home. Ironically I’ve been inconsistent with it. My aim now is to raise my level of consistency and share stories and progress (at least) daily.

I woke up this morning in a panic.

It wasn’t immediate, actually – I notice even though I’ve been awake for just over an hour, my mind is already revising the facts and the details.

I was awake early which was slightly weird – at just after 4 am – but not completely out of the ordinary. I had my phone in my hand when an acquaintance who was once a neighbor sent me a video chat request.

That sent me into a tailspin.

I declined the video chat and almost immediately when I felt unmistakeable fear swept across my body, radiating from my heart to my arms and legs and up and rushing around and looking for tasks to do and listening for anything scary to jump from the walls of the house.

What scared me?

How does it happen that fear just flies into the room like a stealth bomber and takes hold?

The video chat request may have been an accident but my animal brain caused fear to ricochet, “It wasn’t an accident. Watch out, the coast is not clear. Trouble, danger, back away from it now.”

An early morning video chat request meant someone knew I was awake so I couldn’t pretend I had the ability to safely be awake in silence. The request pierced my silent peace.

See, self, it isn’t an irrational fear. Something happened to alert your… my fingers stopped typing and I closed my eyes.

I don’t think I was ready to wake up.

The radiating fear may very clearly have come from the space nightmares come from: the depths of sleep, where the unspeakable darkness within us occasionally makes itself known.

The timer for my 5 minute writing period sounds and I may now complete this writing.

I want to have a capstone at the end.

I took my hands away from the keyboard and took several breaths, deep resonant breaths.

Old narrative: When fear sweeps in, panic is the next emotion in the train called “You and those you love are in danger. Dive into ground and burrow under the soil.”

New narrative: When fear sweeps in, take time to notice what is factual. Find comfort in the facts.

Julie Jordan Scott inspires people to experience artistic rebirth via her programs, playshops, books, performances and simply being herself out in the world.  She is a writer, creative life coach, speaker, performance poet, Mommy-extraordinaire and mixed media artist whose Writing Camps and Writing Playgrounds permanently transform people’s creative lives. Watch for the announcement of new programs coming soon!

Contact Julie now to schedule a Writing or Creative Life Coaching Session, call or text her at 661.444.2735.

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My First Renaissance & Making My Way Back to Believing In Happy Endings

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I would rather feel a lot than be numb.

I know numb. I don’t like numb. It is like being asleep – eyes half open, heart shuttered, laughter muffled.

I lived this way for far too long: back when I believed in sacrificing all my hopes and dreams (except for conventional, acceptable ones.) For some people this was an agreeable Julie.

For me, It was like a slow churning road to a very sleepy life.

I notice my hands leave the keyboard.

I don’t like writing about that time – I don’t like remembering that time. A big part of me doesn’t remember many specifics from back then.

I remember bits and pieces like when I broke my arm the day I took my first roller skating lesson. I was 37. I wanted to be sure my children knew how to skate because there were lots of birthday parties back then at skating rinks and I didn’t want them to be the only children who couldn’t skate.

I was in a bright pink cast for a few weeks and as soon as it came off, I was back at the skating rink. I never got good, but I did actually skate backwards (on purpose) once and I learned to fall so I wouldn’t break anything.

I remember going to Open Mic night. Actually, that was later.

I remember the first time I bumped into the man who told me my assault wasn’t an assault, it was a miscommunication. He laughed at one of my pieces at Open Mic I didn’t realize was funny. I was just being me and yes, that is sort of funny. That was at Open Mic my first time and I was reading from my first ever ebook, a memoir called Don’t Let It Take Two Death Threats published back in 1999.

This was when I was coming out of my sleepy fog.

My first renaissance. I actually read How to Think Like Leonardo Da Vinci and back then I still believed in cliché versions of happy endings.

I don’t see that as a bad thing, actually. There are times I wish I still did believe in happy endings.

I need to write on that, actually, because I may still believe in them… just need a tussle or two to get my Santa Hat on straight. I still believe in him after all….. and the timer sounds saying “Time to pick up Samuel from swimming!”

(I would love to hear your insights on happy endings. Please leave me a comment if you have something to share.)

Julie Jordan Scott inspires people to experience artistic rebirth via her programs, playshops, books, performances and simply being herself out in the world.  She is a writer, creative life coach, speaker, performance poet, Mommy-extraordinaire and mixed media artist whose Writing Camps and Writing Playgrounds permanently transform people’s creative lives. Watch for the announcement of new programs coming soon!

Contact Julie now to schedule a Writing or Creative Life Coaching Session, call or text her at 661.444.2735.

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Hello, February! A Free Flow Greeting + A Writing Prompt for You

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Hello, February!

In all your beautiful winter-y-ness which seems to be flying over this February, hello.

I’m ready for you. My heart is filled with optimism and my plate is filled with healthy yumminess and plentiful projects that stir my spirit and make me smile. I’m coming alongside Radical Grace and Abundance as I continue with Freedom.

I’m like a little girl again, taking each by the hand as we walk down the sidewalk with your name overhead. “It’s February, Freedom – Radical Grace and Abundance! It’s February!”

I’ve noticed the Tulip Magnolia blossoms are beginning to appear on Robert and Stephanie’s baby tree and I literally shouted in delight yesterday as January came to an end.

I’m remembering an affirmation I created a few years ago – maybe as many as ten years ago – when I borrowed the essence of Anais Nin and wrote, “My business blossoms when I am bold.”

My writing blossoms when I embrace the essence of radical grace and abundance and allow flow her due course.

I’m remembering the loving surrender of childhood – holding hands and looking up into the faces of those you trust.

I am learning more about trust with you, February. I lost my verve around trust. Repeated hurts sometimes push trust out of view and I know, yes – I know, it is time to allow the healing power of grace in exponential, infinite ways to not erase the hurt, but to allow trust to be strengthened because of the hurt.

I pause as I write because that feels so paradoxical.

I smile because I remember now how much I love skating in the infinite-loop-de-loop of abundance.

Let’s woo each other, dear February. I’m up for some old-fashioned self-love, word-love and overall life-love. We’ve got this….

With Passionate Gratitude and Radical Grace in Abundance,
Julie

Writing Prompt: This post was written by simply setting my timer to 5 minutes and free flow writing. I didn’t overthink or even really think at all, I simply wrote. Before I hit “publish” I briefly eye balled the text but that’s it. What is more important than the outcome is the process and the revisiting, daily, as we settle into February.

Tip: Write your own  “Hello, February” greeting. Let’s make this month phenomenal. You deserve it!

Julie Jordan Scott inspires people to experience artistic rebirth via her programs, playshops, books, performances and simply being herself out in the world.  She is a writer, creative life coach, speaker, performance poet, Mommy-extraordinaire and mixed media artist whose Writing Camps and Writing Playgrounds permanently transform people’s creative lives. 

To contact Julie to schedule a Writing or Creative Life Coaching Session, call or text her at 661.444.2735.

 

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The Journey to Passionate Detachment is the Road to Healing

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The woman sat across from me, smiling – eyes wide and happy. I thought it was miraculous: she looked excited to see me – this she who is my therapist, one who enjoys the Myers-Briggs assessment tool.  She was talking about how I show up in the world, personality wise. She was talking about how I am free spirited, don’t like to plan, don’t like the middle or endings of things so I work under pressure… and I remembered, so clearly…

The college-aged me loved getting assigned mammoth research papers. I am such a nerd I wrote my first research paper in the fifth grade. Thirty-five pages on the plight of the migrant worker. No accident I live in the county where Caesar Chavez got his start. Those thirty-five pages included 37 different references which I gleefully compiled on index cards which I joyfully attached to a carefully crafted outline.

I loved watching other students race to get their assignments in when mine were consistently done well before the due date, no crunch necessary.

So when did I stop behaving like this and when did I start stuff and then (more often than I will care to admit) fall apart before crossing the finish line?

I can easily look back and point to “stuff” that happened that made me not want to go the finish line because of painful associations.

The first notable case of this is the Birth/Death of my long awaited first child, Marlena.

Then  there is the job I had that seemed like such a good fit which ended when my life was threatened twice in two months and then my associates and co-workers all deserted me.

There is the reality of two of my children’s education where schools failed them, repeatedly, in more ways than I need to document here (and would happily do so privately for those who may have similar circumstances).

For someone with serious abandonment issues, feeling left out or different from the mythical “most people” may create a downward sloping day, week or months or more.

Let’s face it, most people are excited about pregnancy and delivery and I, instead, almost always have death hovering as a very real known-to-me  option.

Most people look to new employment as an exciting opportunity for growth and I look to it as if the unexpected associations with work may cause my death – no matter how irrational this may seem, my brain serves up this fear when I think about getting a “conventional” sort of job.

I know some Moms who break out the bloody Mary mix and Margaritas on the first day of school. Me? I am more likely to don combat boots and camo, waiting for the inevitable crisis call.

This very real scenario happened last week:

My son’s school called when I was away from my phone. I saw I had just missed it so the voice mail hadn’t yet arrived. I stood there and felt my heart race, a sudden unexpected flashback.

“Ohhhh, no… the school called, the school called… what happened what happened what happened? Did he get bullied? Did a teacher humiliate him? Did he have a breakdown or a meltdown or was he sexually molested (and blamed for not coming straight back to class) or was he urinated on by a peer?   Do I need to rush over there and pick up the pieces?”

Here’s the thing. All of these things have actually happened on school campuses to my children.

The voice mail landed in my email box and here is a reasonable version of what I heard: “Hello, Parents. We are calling to inform you at 8:40 we were called by the Sheriff’s Department notifying us there was a man on the adjacent street to us carrying a rifle so we immediately went on lockdown.”

My response? “Oh thank God, it was just a man walking near the school with a rifle.”

I have told this story to other special-ed parents and the story brings nodding and understanding and yes, the occasional laugh or two or three.

My beginnings haven’t been met with excitement because the journey turned from gleeful excitement about the what’s next to dismay and horror about what might come next and then, so it seemed, the “rightness” of the mess that came next.

Now, the-me-I-am now – has a whole lovely decade (and more) of narrative to rewrite.

Old narrative: “The experiences and starting lines other people celebrate with hopeful expectation, I need to be wary about because I don’t think I can stand anymore pain in my life.”

New narrative (First draft, will continue to tweak). In any life process, there are possibilities for deep pleasure and satisfaction and there are possibilities for loss. This is true for everything. My choice today is to do the work and experience the profound joy I was meant to do here to benefit humanity and experience mindful creative abundance every day. My choice is to have my eyes wide open and to keep moving forward, onward and upward with loving, passionate detachment.

If you would like to work towards rewriting your narrative in order to have a more truthful foundation to build your life upon, I would love to work with you to do that. Contact me at the number below —

Julie Jordan Scott inspires people to experience artistic rebirth via her programs, playshops, books, performances and simply being herself out in the world.  She is a writer, creative life coach, speaker, performance poet, Mommy-extraordinaire and mixed media artist whose Writing Camps and Writing Playgrounds permanently transform people’s creative lives. Watch for the announcement of new programs coming in soon!

To contact Julie to schedule a Writing or Creative Life Coaching Session, call or text her at 661.444.2735.

 

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