“We’ll talk soon.” was his only text reply to my full-screen of texted verbiage. Rocket Man knows me well. He knows I am fluent in the language of Emoticon and he knows a visual vent of faces is secondary in urgency to multiple screens of syllables and exclamation points. He also knows I will likely be fine once the day is surrendered at sunset.
I am in a phase of gathering. In the midst of bitchy blurts, incomplete projects and multiple unknowns.
“Well, there is a woman who comes in here regularly who swears by it!” the clerk explained as she handed me a package of 95% natural facial serum, “clinically proven to restore and repair age-damaged skin in just seven days” and give me “superhero skin.” This is another manifestation of venting for me: Seeking out all-natural products to defy a natural process.
I am in a season of noticing. In the midst of physical reminders of how many birthdays I have celebrated.
“The difference is when you speak something new, you are at the beginning; when I speak something new, I have already decided it.” Her words reminding me: my process is not my procrastination; everything counts, everything holds value.
I am in a season of solitude and reflection. In the midst of knowing my strength is a collage of my weaknesses.
To let go of something is when hope begins. -Anne Lamott
I am letting go of my self-editing. For today.
I am woman with flashes of information and inspiration. The posts I have sat down to write for Secret Rebel Club have been fragmented. I forget what I said in whispered inspiration; my jots are incoherent. I am in Big Picture mode, scheduling out plans and noting deadlines set for a year from now.
I am content with showing up as scheduled, but also with walking away without posting as I turn out the proverbial light of my writing desk here. I am learning to accept unpublished drafts as perfect pieces of a whole instead of failure or a loss.
At any point, we can step out of our frozen selves and our ideas and begin fresh. -Natalie Goldberg
I am stepping out of my frozen self. For today.
I am a woman remembering, re-learning; a woman be-coming, a student of the stories written during the long-days of years-short. I am reacquainting my-self each morning at the mirror of my-self; noticing the projects-unfinished and lines across my face and knowing with absolute certainty: This is my time.
Time I have eagerly awaited — and yet I am holding tighter to Now and Then than my passions require for Next. It takes as long as it takes; but that doesn’t make the waiting any easier!
I am set to hit “publish” for this post at a later hour than I hoped — and in spite of mental eye rolls cued by Perfection — because I wholeheartedly embrace the value of vents and I dance wildly with Surrender!