Reconnect. Refocus. Rebuild. Part 1

Step 1: Reconnect

When I was a little girl, I used to sit in my room and scribble in notebooks for hours, for days. 

I’d pour my little soul out onto the paper in the form of words. Poetry. Short stories. Random thoughts.

I’d read so, so much. And then I’d save my favorite quotes or ideas from books, magazines, online blogs and sites. I’d argue with myself when confronted with a new idea, trying to understand the cognitive dissonance happening within my mind. What did I truly believe? How did it make me feel, and why?

This was my truest form of expression. 

On the page, in between the lines, I was free to say whatever I wanted. Free to be myself, to say what was on my mind. There was nobody out there to say, “You’re wrong.” “This sucks.” “I’d use a different word here.” “Why do you even think of this crap?” 

It was pure and honest. This was the space where I never had to hide from myself. I did whatever I wanted to. I said it all, laid it all out there to take up space. 

I wrote in pen because there was something so permanent about that. Mistakes were par for the course. I’d just scratch it out, a reminder of the moment when I had a better idea, a new word or thought process. Messy. Raw. Real.

I still have those notebooks. Those collections of words. There’s thousands of pages containing every little thought I’ve dared to record. I’ve been moving them from town to town, home to home, since I was a teenager. 

Is it any wonder that I became a journalist?

And yet, somewhere, somehow, I slowly drifted away from it. 

As I got older, I no longer felt the “need” to do it anymore. Those really deep thoughts that sometimes make you wonder, worry. Why even bother? The questions we ask of ourselves, the answers that we seek. The confusion of the world that we attempt to explain. The more you think about them, the less you are living your life, right? Besides, we’ve all got stuff to worry about, and nobody cares about what’s going on in your tiny brain.

I didn’t feel the longing to create characters, create scenarios and feelings and visions that melt off the paper and into someone else’s brain. 

Someone I used to know once said that the way I write and the way I talk are completely different. That my writing offered a glimpse into my life that the rest of me never offered. 

Anyone who knows me knows this is true.

I’ve always hated talking, out loud. You’ve only got one shot to say the right thing, not as much time as you need to think, to revise, to see what it looks and sounds and feels like before it’s final. It’s just … out there. Yeesh. For some people, the words flow right out and it’s beautiful poetry all on its own. I’ve always kind of admired that. 

In person I feel like a bumbling mess; on paper my confidence is exalting. If I were gifted with the talent of oration, I’d most certainly be an incredible public speaker, right?

I think, for too long, I have focused on that weakness, rather than my strength, which is that I can write. 

I am a writer. 

I always have been.

It’s time to fully embrace this. 

Today, I’m reconnecting with myself by committing to writing more often, writing more poems, and songs, and stories, and essays, and journal entries, and whatever the hell else I feel like writing. I’m doing it. 

It won’t all be public. 

But I do plan on blogging more, so I will share a lot more with you in the coming months! 

***

Why am I telling you this and where did it all come from? 

I’m on a journey to rediscover myself. In the last month and a half, I’ve dissolved a relationship, moved across the country, and experienced a natural disaster in which I felt helpless and scared that I was first going to freeze to death, then die of dehydration, then be stuck here with no fuel to escape, and then not have food to eat. The first one was a very real possibility, the other three were not completely unfounded but definitely products of my anxiety and skyrocketing “fight or flight” response. 

Now that my adrenaline is lowering and cortisol stabilizing, it all came crashing down on me. 

I’m struggling, y’all. An existential crisis or sorts. 

The future is filled with so much uncertainty that I’m having trouble waking up each day to greet it because it is very overwhelming. The past is real, very valid, but how, exactly, can I use all of the things I’ve done and learned and experienced to help me get to where I want to be? Where exactly do I want to be?

Sometimes you have to make decisions quickly and hope that the rest eventually falls into place. 

I’m now at the part where I need to start figuring it out. I think I was there before the disaster hit, but it made me feel the cracks so much deeper than I had anticipated.

So after a re-grounding yoga session and some mindfulness meditation today, I decided that I’m going to break it up into three phases.

Reconnect.

Refocus. 

Rebuild. 

Today, I start to reconnect. 
With my soul, my body, my mind, my heart. 
With my family. With my friends. With my pets. With animals, nature, plants, bugs, the wind and the rain. 
Listen to my breathing. 
Feel my heart beat. 
Over.
And.
Over.
Again.

Phase two, I begin to refocus. On the things that matter. On the things I want to improve. The things I want to leave behind. On letting go of things that no longer serve me. 

Phase three: This is the fun part. This is where the warrior comes out. This is where I layer brick by brick on top of and next to one another. This is the stuff that I want to keep, the stuff that makes me truly, uniquely and unapologetically me. 

I know I’ll get there. I know it is just going to take time. But it’s the last piece of the puzzle, and I’ll do it when I am ready.

Until then, one thing at a time. 

I plan on almost daily yoga and meditation sessions. I’m going to train and train hard for some bike races. I’m going to live in the moment, alive and vibrant and aware. I’m going to connect with, not shy away from my emotions. They are going to bleed all over these pages, and I’m not going to hold back. I am going to meet so many new people and focus on true connections, real friendships, once-in-a-lifetime moments and the joy of flying through this world with people you really care about and who make it special.

I’m not going to hold back because I owe it to myself to be honest and faithful … to myself. 

That’s not to say that I have been faking it this whole time. I am still me, for better and for worse. I still believe in all the things I believe in, and I still love all the things I love. But from this day forward, I’m going to let out the artist that’s deep down inside there. 

I’m going to be loud (on paper). 

And so it begins. I have never been more ready.

Can't write a song if you never lost anything you truly loved
Can't start a fire crying in the rain
So light a fire, leave it all behind
Hit the road and lose your mind
Find out what it is you really need
'Cause we all play a part in history, we all end up just a memory
'Cause we all play a part in history, we all end up just a memory

~ Andy Warhol, Strung Out