No That’s Not A Mugshot

 

As you can plainly see, I’m not comfortable in front of a camera, but I’ll sacrifice my dignity for you, my dear reader.

As you may know, I just relocated to Colorful Colorado. It was great the first few weeks, when I was brand new and everything was exciting. I went out scouting for a good bike shop and to find where all the natural foods stores and yoga studios were. I suppose I was trying to bring back a sense of security. When I found those places, I would feel more at home.

It worked, too, until I hit a snag. I spent eleven days in a wheat-induced depression. Yes. I accidentally ingested a small crumb of onion ring coating and spent the next week and a half in a dark funk. That’s what wheat does to me.

During those eleven days, I went from feeling like I was getting a fresh start at a new life to feeling like nothing would ever work out for me. To top it all off, I had to start looking for a job and that’s never fun, even on a good day.

However, on day twelve, I woke up feeling like someone had lifted all the wet wool blankets off my shoulders and just like that, I felt good again. Thank goodness, but I still had that pesky job to look for.

At this point in my life, I don’t want a job. I’ve it with toiling day after day doing something I don’t like to do in order for some old man to grant me some peanuts so I can have a place to live and food to eat. As I’ve said before, I’ve hated virtually every one of my jobs. It would be so much easier if I were a massage therapist or an herbalist or a yoga teacher or an acupuncturist. I were a “something” it would make those job search engines work better for me. But I’m not a “something”. There is no job called “I just need a job, man.”

The one thing I might be is a would-be entrepreneur. I have a ton of ideas for businesses, but nothing’s really stuck yet. Besides, I have no money, no connections, and I’m a big fraidy cat when it comes to selling my ideas to strangers. Those are all excuses, I know. I have an Elizabeth Gilbert quote on my wall that reads

“You’re supposed to start before you’re ready and before you’re good at it and that’s how you get ready and that’s how you get good at it.”

It takes a lot of courage to start before you’re ready. People tell me that they think I was brave for picking up and moving to a new place just because I wanted to. I don’t necessarily think it was brave. It’s taken me years to actually move. I finally told myself that I had to shit or get off the pot and I’m never one to back down from a dare, but I had to tackle a lot of demons before I was ready. So after several years of therapy and with demons mostly tackled, I moved. I still have a few straggler demons to slay, though, and they’re big and mean and really strong.

One of them rules over my work life. It looms dark and menacing over every bright idea I come up with. It snarls at me, “You can’t make a living doing that. You’ve got to get a job and work hard. You’re not talented enough or smart enough. You’ve never been very good at any of your previous jobs, so you won’t be any good at this either. What if you fail? There’s nothing left after that. Better just stick to what you know.” (My demons talk a lot.)

I know, though, that in order to diminish this demon, I have think different. I can’t go about finding work and thinking about money in the same way I always have if I want things to be different this time. So, as I said in my previous blog post, I’m not going to look for a job. I’m going to let it come to me.

I know what you’re thinking. “Yeah right. People just come to your door and hand you a job.” That’s not what I mean. I mean that I’m going expect the right job (or a giant wad of cash, which would be even better) to come along at the right moment. I’m not going to worry or stress about it and I’m not going to take a job that feels wrong in my gut just because I’m scared. I have faith that the Universe will bring me an opportunity that will make me say “Heck yeah!” instead of, “It’s better than nothing.” It’s a relief to hand the management of my financial life over to the Universe. It has a lot more resources at its disposal than I do.

The other demon that still has its claws in me is the one that tells me that I’m not creative, that I will never be able to make a living doing what I love. (And of course, the only reason to do anything is so that we can make money from it, right?) In the past couple of years, though, I’ve allowed myself to delve into what I love – art. I’ve taken several graphic design classes and a couple of art classes and they have given me so much joy, it makes me cry. (Like right now, I’m literally tearing up.) I stress myself out a little, because I don’t want to wait until I get good enough to make it part of my résumé, but at this point, I’m really not good enough. I don’t have the portfolio and that fear of never being good enough has stopped me from even working on one right now. I can’t get myself to draw or paint or work on my logo or even do tutorials off of YouTube. This demon will not let me play.

However, the demon will allow me to write this blog and practice my photography. I don’t know why. Perhaps all that other stuff is simply play for me – and there’s nothing wrong with playing. What I truly love to do is write and take photographs. Maybe my love is stronger than that nasty, ol’ demon and that’s why it can’t stop me. So instead of fussing over finding a job, I’m making writing and photography my focus. I’m going to be more consistent with my blog and perhaps even up my blog game with a wordpress upgrade.

I’m also opening a new Instagram account within the next couple of days that will be devoted to a 365 photography project. I’m excited to watch the progression of my photography over the next year and I hope to finally find my “voice” (or is it “eye”). I’m going to step outside of my comfort zone of landscapes and flowers, and bring more of myself into my photography. (And nothing is more out of my comfort zone than a selfie. See above.)

I’ve been focused on this concept of “doing it different” for some time now, but I didn’t quite understand how to do that. Now I see that doing things different requires a shift in perspective. I can’t see and think about things in the same way I always have and expect different results. Isn’t that the definition of crazy? I have to approach my life and how I think about things in a different way. They talk about the shift in consciousness that’s going on in the world right now. I believe that shift in consciousness starts with each of us. I’m happy to have finally figured that out and I hope that my shift adds some momentum to the big one that’s underway.

I hope you’ll stick with me as I work my way through doing my life different. If you find yourself “doing it different” as well, I hope you’ll share with me in the comments. I’d love to hear all about it.

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The Time I Jumped Off A Bridge

I spent a summer in Alaska at the end of the eighties. I had been semi-dared by my brother to go with these two guys I kind of knew. He said, “You won’t go. You’ll chicken out” or something to that effect. Gauntlet thrown, I sold my car and hopped in a van spray painted with Grateful Dead art and a giant bulls-eye painted in red and white on the roof. We were a rolling target with a pot-head driving the van most of the way, yet we never got pulled over.

It was the year of the Exxon Valdez oil spill and the idea had been to go to Valdez to help with the clean up, but we never made it that far. Stinky Kevin–the pot-head driver who never wore deodorant–had his own agenda. He wanted help getting to Petersburg, Alaska, because he had gone there the previous year and he already had a job lined up. Not being to0 ambitious, I decided to stay there too.

I met some very interesting people up there. Petersberg is on Mitkof island on the Inside Passage in southeast Alaska. It’s a town of around 3000 that grows to about 10,000 during the summer fishing seasons and most of the 7000 visitors are young twent-somethings, up for an adventure and trying to make a lot of money in a hurry.

I quickly found my own group of friends after we first got to Petersburg. One day, on a warm day by Alaska standards (it was in the 70’s) and the sun was out (it had pretty much rained nonstop up to that point), we decided to go swimming. I was skeptical. I thought the water would be too cold and if you know me, I’m not a fan of the cold. However, one this particular day, it was surprisingly comfortable.

We swam and played and at some point the boys started to jump off the bridge. I don’t know how high it was, but it looked really high to me. I’m also not a huge fan of heights, especially jumping off of them. Somehow, though, they convinced me to jump off the bridge, too.

We climbed up to the bridge and looked over the side. It was so high, I thought I’d never be able to do it. I am not one to back down from a challenge, however, (which, as you recall, is how I ended up in Alaska to begin with) and as the boys teased me and double dog dared me, I couldn’t say no. Two of my best guy friends even offered to jump with me. There was no backing down.

We climbed up on the railing, each of us on our own pillar and decided to jump on the count of three. One, two…three. I looked at them as I started to jump and realized they weren’t jumping with me. I could have backed out, but I thought, “What the hell” and jumped anyway.

When I came up for air, I heard them screaming and hollering for me. I felt so proud of myself, although I was a bit pissed at them for tricking me. Jumping off that bridge came to represent my way of coping with things that are scary for me.

Blinders are the screens attached to a horse’s bridle that only allows them to see what’s right in front of them, so they won’t get spooked by things happening off to the side. When I’m particularly scared to do something that I really want to do, I put my blinders on, so I won’t be distracted by the fears and buts and shoulds that surround me. I focus on the goal in front of me.

The goal now is to do things differently. I don’t want to keep creating the same situation over and over again. I don’t want to keep resisting my own life. I want to move out of this town that no longer serves me and start over, for real this time.

Yesterday, I decided to give up my last attachment to my old way of doing things: my call center job. And just like that, I’m set myself free. No more resisting. No more undervaluing. I’ll stay vigilant for the moments when I start to head down an old path and gently guide myself back onto the path of least resistance.

Once again, I’ve put my blinders on and said, “What the hell,” just like that day on the bridge. There’s no going back now.

 

 

 

Shooting Arrows

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Image via Pinterest

I know you’ve all seen this one before. I know I’ve seen it a hundred times too, but I feel like this analogy is fitting for how I feel right now.

You may or may not know that I’ve never had a job I’ve liked and I’ve tried almost everything. I enjoy learning new jobs, but once they become repetitive and routine, I get bored. I get so bored that I feel like gnawing my leg off just to get away. I start to feel like, every day I’m going back to prison to fulfill a life sentence for the crime of not knowing what I want to do when I grow up.

The job I have now is everything I dislike in a job all wrapped up in an ugly, low-wage package. I’m working in a call center, which if you don’t know, is a big room with cubicles, old computers, and headsets where I talk to upset customers all day long and attempt to fix their problems. I’m tethered to my phone all day like a dog with a choke chain around its neck. I can stand up and move a couple of steps, but if I try to make a run for it, it yanks me back violently by the neck.

I’m judged on the quality of my phone calls, but more importantly to the powers that be, by the quantity of calls I take, which calls for a lot of multi-tasking. I do not multi-task well. I also have to account for every minute I’m away from the phone and I’m docked for anything more than a quick potty break. The never ending beep of the next call coming in makes me want to bash my head into desk and one can often find me gesticulating like a crazy lady while dripping sugary sweetness through the phone. This is the lie I have to live.

To add insult to injury, I have to drive 15 miles to get to the office, which is in the suburbs. The suburbs! I hate the suburbs. The building is sandwiched between a cornfield-this is Nebraska after all-and the bland brown/beige/gray houses of some quaintly named housing division.

The worst part is that, as a believer in the Law of Attraction, I know that I created this job. Why would I do this to me? Again?

I’ve spent a lot of the last two years focused on figuring that out. Why do I create these things I do not like? Part of it is that I haven’t believed I deserved better and the other part is that I get so focused on the agony of what I’ve already created that I create more of the same. Like attracts like. This job is actually the wake-up call I needed.

I’m done with torturing myself for whatever I think I may have done wrong in my past or trying to make up for being me. I deserve better than this. I’m ready to create something entirely different now. The plan for a big move is underway and my time at this horrible little job in a town I’ve never liked is almost done.

However, I’m having trouble letting go of the old. The old is comfortable in an uncomfortable way. I’m used to the misery, after all this is the way I’ve always done things. There is certainty in the old, but I don’t want certain anymore. I want to walk boldly into uncertainty (that’s my 2017 mantra). It’s the only way I can create anything new.

I feel stressed out and pulled taut like an arrow on a bowstring. My arm is pulling against the string, my eyes are focused on a hazy, but distinguishable target, my foundation is rock solid, and my fingers are ready to release.  All I need to do is let go of the damn string and I’ll fly straight towards my new way of doing things.

Uncertainty has me hesitant to let go. Uncertainty brings up a panic in me that says “What if I miss my target? What if the arrow doesn’t fly, but drops in front of my feet because I didn’t hold it right? What if the target I’ve got a bead on is the wrong target and I end up with something worse?”

The only thing that’s sure in life is that there are no guarantees, but I’ll never know if I don’t try. Letting go of the bowstring and trusting that no matter what target my arrow hits, it will be the right one. It’s the risk I’ll have to take, because giving up and putting the arrow back in my quiver is not an option.

The Bully

I’ve spent most of my adult life being bullied. When I was a kid, I was taught to turn the other cheek. Just walk away. Don’t talk back. I was never once told to stand up for myself or fight back, so I’ve spent my entire life running away from confrontation. I’ve let the bully shove me in the back over and over, taunting me with words like you’re not good enough, you’re not smart enough, you’re not talented enough, you don’t deserve better, keep walking, big baby, don’t cry, and don’t you dare fight back. So, I took it. Every shove and every taunting word. Obviously, I deserved it.

I always used to say that I’m afraid to get angry. I would walk away when provoked, because I felt my anger was too great and I might physically hurt someone. I pushed my anger down out of fear of what might happen. Whenever it would bubble up, I would drink. And I drank a lot for a very long time. Finally, I was afraid of hurting someone with my drinking, so I quit doing that, but the anger is still there and I’ve spent several years in therapy trying to figure out what to do about it. I couldn’t possibly let it out, so like a pressure cooker, I would cry and a little anger would steam out through my tears.

You see, the bully tells me that I can’t do what I truly want to do, because I don’t have enough education or experience and even if I did, the only way anyone would let me do what I want is if I sneak into the company at the lowest level and hard work my way into doing what I want to do. I’ve tried to do things that way over and over and somehow, I never seem to luck into that job, but I do get more and more hard work.

What I want to do is graphic design or photography or produce content for websites and social media. I want to work for Patagonia, which is, in my opinion, one of the best companies in the world. Not only do they make a great line of clothing, but they donate one percent of their sales to environmental causes, like dam removal and wild space preservation. They also believe in taking care of their employees, including their families. One catalog I recently received told the story of how they set up a day care at the corporate office so that moms and dads could spend time with their little ones during the day. They hired a teacher to teach the kids in a less structured, more experiential way. That catalog made me cry, because the way they do things is so in line with who I am and so different from the way any of the companies I’ve worked for do things. I also want to make those catalogs and tell those stories that make people like me cry, but the bully says the only way I could possibly get into a company like that is through the bottom door.

I’ve been working in a call center for about six weeks now. The only bright spot I had was thinking that it may help me get into a good company like Patagonia eventually. But the bully wasn’t letting me get by that easy. He kept shoving me in the back with nonstop calls, mad customers, and impossible problems and tonight, the bully finally pushed me too hard. I had time for one more call before I left and I got the meanest, most confrontational lady on the phone. Nothing I offered would appease her. She asked for a supervisor and I was relieved because that’s the only way I was going to get off that call. But the supervisor line was eight deep and I was on hold to transfer this woman for 25 minutes. I had to stand there while other people left and still other people ignored the backed up calls and goofed around with their friends.

When I finally got to the car, I realized that I had had enough.  The bully had pushed me to the ground and dared me to get up and fight and this time I did. As I drove home, I yelled at the bully. I shoved the bully. I told the bully I wasn’t going to take this shit anymore. I deserve better. I deserve to do work that I love and that fulfills me. I am not going to waste one more minute putting up with less than I deserve because I’m afraid of confrontation and afraid to stand up for myself. I told the bully to find me something better. I told the bully to find me a job that I deserve and that I wasn’t going to settle for less anymore. I showed the bully that I’m standing up for myself and I’m not afraid anymore.

The bully said, “It’s about time.”

#nodapl

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Today is Thanksgiving 2016 and I’m feeling extremely emotional. It’s been a tough year for the country and for me personally. We’ve elected (not me) a man who is in way over his head, but thinks he has all the answers. “Nobody knows the system better than me, which is why I alone can fix it.” It’s a scary time for those of us who know better. The good news is that his election has awakened those of us who thought this could never happen. People are coming together to support each other and to defend those who were targeted by his hateful rhetoric and I’m pretty sure this includes everyone but straight white men. As bad as it feels, I am still hopeful that this is simply the awakening we needed. We were too complacent. Trump is here to rattle us out of our indifference. I believe it’s something that we needed.

However, the issue that is causing me the most distress is the situation up at Standing Rock. I am utterly dumbfounded by the ability of North Dakota to treat unarmed people as they are treating the Water Protectors. Attack dogs, concussion grenades, mace, pepper spray, rubber bullets the size and hardness of lacrosse balls, and water sprayed at people when it’s 28 degrees outside. It’s inhumane. North Dakota law enforcement labels them as rioters. They say they are protecting the citizens of North Dakota. They have SWAT teams, the National Guard, and law enforcement officers from all over the country bullying the people who are standing up against an oil company. They aren’t there to protect the people of North Dakota. They are there to protect a foreign oil company. It’s sickening.

I watched a bit of live feed on Facebook today, but had to turn it off because I got so stressed out and scared that something bad was going to happen to one of the Protectors. I also felt sad because I could never do what those people are doing. I am not courageous enough to stand on the front lines and get arrested or maced or have my arm nearly blown off by a concussion grenade. I am only brave enough to sit behind my computer and write posts about it or wear t-shirts showing my support.

I’m not doing enough and I know it, which made me start thinking about what a hypocrite I am. I talk about the environment. I talk about my love of diversity and standing up for people. I talk about my love of people, yet I rarely venture out of my house. I do nothing. I’ve had opportunities to participate, yet I turn them down because I’m afraid. I’m not sure what I’m afraid of, but it paralyzes me. I want to be that person who devotes her time to those less fortunate or those who are being persecuted. I want to help. Badly. I don’t like this part of myself, but I know that I’ve changed a lot of old behaviors and beliefs lately and I know I change this.

I read a beautiful piece on Indian Country Today written by Ryan Redcorn (read it here: http://indiancountrytodaymedianetwork.com/2016/11/24/redcorn-oil-and-natural-gas-thanksgiving-166572) Ryan talked about feeling sick as he was putting gas in his car and realizing that he had to take a stand. I have the same feeling every time I fill up my car. Here I am condemning an oil pipeline, while I drive my gas fueled car 30 miles a day to work. My lack of motivation landed me a job nearly as far away from my house as possible and still be in the same town. I buy food at a chain grocery store who has to have everything trucked in from California and Florida, because we need strawberries and tomatoes all year round, right? I live in a town that makes alternate modes of transportation nearly impossible, although it can be done. Do I do it? No. Again, I feel like a hypocrite. What do I do?

First of all, I can make small changes now. I can eat seasonal foods and forego my beloved avocados and seafood. I can choose products made locally as often as I can and I can stop buying food out of season. Second, I can start walking the talk right now and find a place to volunteer my time. There’s plenty of need and I can choose the causes closest to my heart. Third, I can join the protests, that seem to be happening more and more these days, in person instead of just giving them lip service. Lastly, I can start start figuring out how to live the way I want to live. I want to find a place where I can use my bike as my main mode of transportation and figure out how solar panels and wind energy works. I can look into the cost of a tiny home and the price of a small piece of land on which I can grow my own food. And I can start using my design and art skills to promote the causes I feel strongly about. It’s time to walk the talk. Put my money where my mouth is. Shit or get off the pot. Maybe if I start taking some steps now, I will feel like less of a coward and a hypocrite. I may never be on the front lines of a large demonstration like those brave Water Protectors I so admire, but I can be a part of the change that is gathering momentum around the world. I will be idle no more.

 

A Gift from Saturn

I’ve gotten into astrology this past year. I’ve never put much merit in it, but since listening to a certain astrologer, over time, I’ve begun to see that it’s incredibly accurate. How can it not be, really. Our solar system is bound together by energy to work in a certain rhythm and we are a part of that system. If you doubt that the planets can have an affect on us, take a look at the effects of the moon on the tides and on our bodies, especially women. We may not understand how it works, but I do believe there is some good information in it if you’re open to it.

This past year has been ruled by Saturn. Saturn is the taskmaster. He doesn’t suffer any fools. He’s all about discipline and getting things done. He’s like that stern grandfather who rarely give out any accolades, but when he does, it makes you feel like you’ve really accomplished something. Nothing makes you prouder than to have made him proud. Grandpa Saturn has been rather hard on me this year. He’s had enough of my low self-worth and he’s rubbing my face in it.

I jokingly said one time that I thought I might be on the low end of the autism spectrum, because I don’t know how to be social. I don’t get it. I don’t understand how people can talk so much about nothing and how someone else can feign interest in their mundane monologues. I feel awkward when I’m around groups of people, especially people I don’t know well. I’d rather stay home. My cats don’t talk much.

For that reason, I’ve never felt like I belonged anywhere. I’ve tried to join various groups, but since I don’t do small talk, I end up sitting around by myself, getting more and more uncomfortable until I quietly sneak out the door. No one notices, of course, because I’m really good at being invisible.

When I was in junior high and high school, I wanted friends so badly. I especially wanted to be friends with the popular girls. One on one, I could talk to them just fine, but when do you honestly get to talk one on one when you’re a teenager? Teenagers roam in packs, especially the popular ones. You have to deal with the group and as I’ve mentioned, I don’t do groups.

I am far, far removed from my teen years and yet I don’t feel like I’ve grown beyond them. I’m still struggling with the same issues I’ve dealt with for decades. In this case, the popular girl is a yoga instructor. She is super cool and someone I would love to be friends with, I think. I say “I think” because I don’t know her well enough to know if I would really like her or not. Like most popular girls, she is in high demand and she is always surrounded by her inner circle or at least those that are more like her. She’s always nice to me and we seem to get along, one on one, but in the crowd, I just become another student, another one of her hangers-on. I feel exactly like I did in high school.

With the yoga teacher, Saturn has brought me face to face with my beliefs about my value. I’ve had several dealings with her in which she asked me to help her with something then she took it away. I never really understood why. It felt like rejection, but still I persevered, after all, she acted like she liked me at the studio. She seemed to confide in me about things. I felt like perhaps I was finally going to be friends with the popular girl.

Alas, I was wrong. I got very depressed for a while and didn’t feel like interacting with people. I didn’t even want to go to yoga, which is my favorite thing to do. And then other things came up and I haven’t been in a while. I wanted to reach out to her, so I messaged her on Facebook and she ignored me. It’s not the first time. I’ve come to realize that my value to her was my unyielding support as she built her yoga studio. When I stopped going for a time, she quit finding value in me.

What I’ve learned from old Saturn, though, is that it’s time for me to stop trying to befriend people who treat me like I’m not good enough. It’s time to see my own worth and know that I deserve better. I don’t need the popular crowd to give me value. I am inherently worthy.

So, I will love the people who are there for me, even when I’m a depressed mess. Those are the people I want to invest my energy in. I still care about the yoga teacher and I want her business to do well. She still has my unyielding support. I just don’t want to waste any more energy trying to be friends. In fact, I’m grateful to her for not being my friend because she’s helped me to see value in myself and to accept that I deserve better. I’m also grateful to Grandpa Saturn for being a taskmaster. If he hadn’t been so tough on me, I never would have figured it out. I think he’s proud of me and I’m pretty proud of myself, too.

Eyes on the Prize

All the doors are closing. One by one. Slam. Slam. Slam. Slam. There’s no reason for me to stay in this town any more.

I heard someone say once not to worry about Alzheimer’s patients. They aren’t suffering because their spirit is already gone. It’s just taking a while for their bodies to figure it out. That’s kind of what I feel like right now. My spirit has already gone to Colorado, but my body is still stuck here. I’m suffering though, because I know what’s going on. I’m waiting for all the components to line up. The good thing is that I know they really are lining up. I can see the pieces falling into place. I just have to wait. I hate waiting.

While I wait, I have to deal with the anxiety that goes it. Waiting gives me more time to build up a good, irrational fear-based story of “What if it’s no better there? I’m still taking me with me. What if I am fatally flawed and incapable of finding happiness or succeeding  in life? What if I fail again?” Luckily, I’ve decided that I have no choice. I am moving and that’s that. Fear be damned.

Then there’s the anxiety of being thrown to the customer service wolves just in time for Cyber Monday. I wish there was another way for me to pay my bills while I wait, but I guess there’s not. It’s only for a couple of months, right? And there’s absolutely no pressure. I’m not looking at this as a stepping stone toward anything more. It’s a temp job. It’s just a way to bring in cash until it’s time to go. I can do this.

One of the most important things I’ve learned in yoga is that you can handle anything for a little while. In yin yoga, we hold poses from three to five minutes and some of them can be extremely uncomfortable, both physically and mentally. It’s hard to be still. The mind isn’t fond of stillness and will do and say anything to make you fidget or leave the pose entirely. It will convince you that you’re in excruciating pain and will beg you to move, but if you focus on breathing instead of listening to your mind, you can endure any uncomfortableness a posture can throw at you. I keep reminding myself that I can handle it as I face another week of training to be on the phones. I know that once I get a few days of phone calls under my belt, it’ll be a piece of cake, however annoying and uncomfortable it may be. If I remember to breathe, I know it will all be okay. I will survive.

The other thing I must remember is to keep my eyes on the prize. I mustn’t forget that there is indeed a light at the end of the tunnel. It helps to visualize and feel how that prize is going to feel. I envision myself driving west with Omaha in my rearview mirror while I give it a big old finger. I feel the air getting drier the further west I go. I watch the tall grass prairie become shortgrass prairie and then become arid. I see the land spread out for miles in all directions with nothing but a windmill-the old kind or the new-on the horizon. Then I watch as the mountains become larger and larger. I feel relief, anticipation, joy, excitement, and expectation. The mountains and freedom to start a new life are the prizes I’m keeping my eyes on. I can work in a call center for a couple of months if that’s the prize at the end.

While the prize keeps me going, it also causes me great anxiety. I don’t know what I’m going to do when I get there. I don’t know anything about where my life is going. I only know I am leaving here. I’m putting all of my trust in the universe. I trust that I’ve put enough of what I want out there that if I can keep focusing on those good feelings, then I’ll be able to see the path the universe is building for me. Trust doesn’t come easy. Trust means giving up control. I think I’ll be taking a lot of Kava for the next couple of months. Eyes on the prize.

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