Finding Confidence. Fighting Doubt.

Good Morning! The sun is shining. I saw my first robin red-breast of the Spring this morning.  I peeked out my dining room window to redbuds on blue sky.

It is a good day.

Abigail is at preschool. Benjamin sleeps in the back seat of the car while I blog in the front.

A couple of nights ago, I was looking through some writing from five, six, seven years back. Some of it was utterly embarrassing. I know that you have to write junk to get better, but I was blushing and covering my face at some of this stuff even though I was silent and alone with it.
Just like that, the self doubt crept in. What if what I am writing now is utter junk, too, and I just don't know it yet? Why am I doing this? Do I have any business doing this? Am I just going to embarrass myself?
I took a deep breath and listened for the voice that was being drowned out. The voice that tells me to keep writing. The voice that tells me that I have been writing since I was little. The voice that reads me my very first poem that I remember writing.

Under the dark is a star,
Under the star is the tree,
Under the tree is a blanket, and
Under the blanket is me.

Slowly that voice talks me into continuing to write, even if it is all junk. So what? It makes me happy. I am compelled to do it. Just. Keep. Writing.

Writing My Way Back

I am absorbed in writing more than I have been maybe ever. I am just realizing that for the first time I am writing something just for me, just to get it down, to remember, to have it for myself forever. For too long I have thought about what other people might like to read or how my writing might make others feel. For too long I have been over thinking and over considering instead of just writing, just for me. With this new series of short stories that I am writing I have no motives or expectations. These are things that I am compelled to get on the page and out of myself, for myself. I love it all. I am writing my way back to me, to my heart, through my heart. Following my instincts.
Here is a little unedited "warm up" writing before I step away from the screen and take my pen in hand:
He is gone. She is alone and she is strangely happy about this. Upstairs the children sleep after a day of party and play. The radio is on. She closes her eyes and listens as the music soaks into her pores note by note. Breathing out heavily, her face to the sky, emptying herself of air, all is released. She lowers her head, let's her hair fall over her face and sighs.

It is Spring, but there is still snow on the ground. She steps outside into the cool of the night, sits on the still frozen ground and places her hand on the snow. Slightly softened during the day by the ever warming sun, the snow accepts the imprint of her hand.

She closes her eyes and imagines she is holding hands with someone else. They are walking down a path by the sea. It is evening. The sun is setting over the cliff where they stand. Even as the sky rapidly darkens, even though they carry no flashlights on this unlit path, she feels safe and sure.

They stand side-by-side in silence. "You came," he says, breaking the silence. He waits for her to speak. "You are here," he ventures again. She leans closer pressing her arm to his from wrists to elbows. He turns to face her. She reciprocates and takes his other hand in hers. Full circle.

The full moon illuminates the space between them, bathes them in its glow. He sees the answers in her eyes, feels them emanate from her being. When she finally speaks she is deliberate and slow and sure. "Yes. I always have been."

Living in Two Worlds

I am living in two worlds.

In one world I am wife and mother.
I am tender to all needs. I am cleaner of all things. I am driver to all places. I am picker-upper of all messes. I am fulfiller of responsibilities.

In the other world I am wielder of the pen through which all things flow. I am crafter of people and places and things and ideas and...
Life. I am using my gifts and talents. I am myself. Just me.

The more I write the more I long to have more time there, in that world, being myself. It is very difficult to disengage even after I put the pen down and step away from the page. I feel and hear ideas and characters pulling at me, willing me to come back. Most often it needs to wait, but it is not easy living in two worlds that both seem in deperate need of me nearly constantly.

I have a little notebook that I jot things down in during the day and that helps some. Any writers out there with tips and ideas for living in two worlds?

Dreaming Awake

I have been in a dreamy state all day. I have been thinking about someone whom I have not seen in sometime. I have been sifting through the moments and the memories. The sensory effects of being near to this person are still fresh.
I have been feeling meloncholy, too. Musing on what might have happened differently had I said something when the moment arose, kept walking a bit longer, listened instead of speaking.
My whole life (though the one I have is rather lovely) would have been different had either of us spoken up. I have a sense that all is as it should be though, and, in time, our paths shall cross again and take us forward together as we are meant, as partners in one pursuit or all.
I recognize that this is all rather cryptic, but I know and I need to write this for me. I saw this person move across the screen of my phone today. I heard this persons voice.  I felt my visceral response to their artifical nearness. My soul spoke to me.
I believe that this person and I have known each other before.
We have walked the sands of Egypt.
We have swum in the grassy seas of Ireland.
We have run with the bulls in Barcelona.
We have slept in a house boat on the canals of Amsterdam.
We have lived on baguettes and croissants in Paris.
We have wandered the winding streets of distant cities.
We will again.

Abigail is 4!

Abigail turned 4 on Saturday.
I had been in the ER with Benjamin the night before. It turns out he has pneumonia. I got home with him at 2:30 a.m. and Abigail was up at 6:30. We did presents, went to the Dr., played with some of her new things, and had cake at dinner time. Usually it is cake for breakfast on your birthday, but the ER visit broke that tradition this year.

Sunday we celebrated with a few of her friends at a local children's bookstore. Great fun!

Today I am going to school with her and spending the day. I will read a story to the children. We are bringing snack, too.

Advance

Today I left my children with my father and went out on a fact finding mission. I am looking into an opportunity for self-care and self-improvement.
I left later than I wanted to, there was unexpected traffic, the parking garage was nearly full, I just missed the subway train and had to wait for the next one...
Still, I kept going.
I called the person who was waiting for me and she was still willing to meet.
I was apologetic and grateful.

On the drive home I was thinking over the meeting and whether I want to pursue the opportunity. Then I saw this cement mixer in front of me:

It says ADVANCE.

I take it as a sign. I will be advancing.
No more being stuck in cement. Everything is moving around and around.

I am ready.

This moment...

"This moment..." is a writing prompt from Writing Down the Bones 

A couple of nights ago, I used this prompt and ended up writing a full three pages.

Three favorite lines in those three pages:

It feels like the hum of the refrigerator sounds.

Memory tugs on me, picking at me like a loose thread... I imagine a different life with all of my possessions fitting neatly into one backpack ready to take me away on a whim.

...writing side by side... our brilliance floating in the air like magic pixie dust, the best bits landing on the page.



I am just so thrilled to be practicing writing again.

Pneumonia and Susannah

Good Morning!
Yesterday I took Abigail to the doctor yesterday for the third time in a week and learned that she has pneumonia, as I have suspected all along. Benjamin started coughing this morning. An invitation from the universe to slow down I suppose.

Speaking of invitations, Susannah Conway is hosting an April Love photo challenge. I  am grateful for this as I am renewing this blogging habit. If you would like to join, too: www.susannahconway.com
If you are visitimg my blog from Susannah's page, Welcome! Nice to have you here.

Abigail is requesting a "nose blow." Tata for now!

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

Happy St. Patrick's Day!
Yes, we are celebrating the day of his death, but you know...

Lunch at our house was boiled carrots, cabbage, and onions with mashed potatoes.
Yes, boiled dinner is not actually Irish, but what the heck!
Clean plates.

After the rain this morning, the luck of the Irish shines upon us and uncovers some green in the front yard.

May the wind be always at your back.

Nearly 2 Years Later

Hello, Blog. Hello, Blog Friends.

In this moment...
I've been living in the new house for nearly two years.
Abigail is mere days away from turning 4 years old.
Benjamin is mere days away from turning 17 months old.
Boston has just passed the greatest all-time snowfall record for the city ever.
I am ready for Spring and new beginnings.

I find myself here on the blog beginning again at the urging of the writer inside me and the gentle encouragement of my good friend Irma.

I am currently simultaneously reading a book on habits and re-reading Writing Down the Bones by Natalie Goldberg.  A fitting combination for me, a person trying to get back to the practices of me-ness in the midst of raising 2 beautiful, incredible little people.
Here's to getting back in the habit of blogging and writing.

I have been listening to a soulful musician named James Bay. He is a British singer-songwriter who cuts me to the core. I am going to his gig in Boston in April and couldn't be more excited!

Oh, and Pierce is keeping me company right now.

He just turned 6 in February.
Me, right now. Early morning selfie. 5:58 a.m.