"There is a vitality, a life force, an energy, a quickening that is translated through you into action, and because there is only one of you in all of time, this expression is unique.
And if you block it, it will never exist through any other medium and it will be lost.
The world will not have it.
It is not your business to determine how good it is nor how valuable nor how it compares with other expressions.
It is your business to keep it yours clearly and directly, to keep the channel open.
You do not even have to believe in yourself or your work.
You have to keep yourself open and aware to the urges that motivate you. Keep the channel open. ... No artist is pleased. [There is] no satisfaction whatever at any time.
There is only a queer divine dissatisfaction, a blessed unrest that keeps us marching and makes us more alive than the others."
A dear friend posted this on his facebook feed the other day and it served as a binder to many of my flailing feelings about what the fuck I am doing
Many, many changes are happening in my world and at long last I am taking myself by the reins and changing me.
I'll get back to the whole point of the quote in a bit but I have to start at the point of origin so that this can be candid and not just talking around the truth.
The last month of my life has been incredibly difficult- somehow in the midst of great adventures and great joys the pitch black place started calling me again and I knew that this was it. It was time for the showdown.
All the sudden it came sweeping through my life blacking out my happiness, erasing my confidence and absolutely torching the ground underneath me. I haven't had one of these episodes for over 2 years, they are terrifying, paralyzing and beyond unsettling. I cannot sleep, I cannot stay awake everything is uncomfortable and I walk around feeling like everything touching me is 2 sizes too small...
I hit the wall.
This time there was nothing to do but face it.
My lack of self control has been staggering in the last few months, the grieving process leading up to and after the loss of my father has affected me in ways I could never expect. I lived 4 months in constant fear of something happening to him and after it happened I shut down entirely- I hardly cried, I talked about it like it happened to someone else...it wasn't til a couple of weeks in to April that I actually felt the ache kick in and to be honest, it hasn't really stopped.
I miss him deeply.
I feel like I am without a harbor,audience or warden.
All things I have been used to having and made the wild assumption that I would always have.
There is a hole in my world and when Dad quit chemo I sensed the deepening of this hole and began filling it mostly with food but my obsessions became more acute and my high strung nature went in to overdrive.
I won't go in too deep to where I was then but I take you to where I was 2 weeks ago, hardly sleeping - waking up in fits and starts, crying, gorging myself on food only to feel ravenous, my need was endless...
It's odd because some other points of my life have been so very pleasing - and when I am in those pools it is as if the other things did not matter, or even exist but the minute I was left alone with me I began to terrorize myself. All the sudden I was fat and hideous, a slob, a fake, a failure- All things I KNOW are not true but I was more than willing to whip myself with for the sake of letting this anger flow to the surface.
I have been stagnant and it feel like a death.
I have 20 projects I wish to create a company that I am very proud of and I want to see thrive but I have sat on my hands for a month....waiting for them to wake up, waiting for them to finally link to my brain and make something. It has been a sad time for me, the one thing that truly links me to my father is my ability to do and make- When I can't do that I feel dead inside, dead inside and a million miles away from the energy that
has fed me my whole life.
So, I consumed...I consumed and consumed- nothing has been enough.
No affection anyone could give me could be enough, no food could keep me fed, no applause loud enough...my need had become so monstrous that nothing felt good for very long anymore...so I kept hitting the lever and hitting the lever and hitting the lever.
The lever snapped.
I sat with myself a week ago Monday and I looked at myself. Despite the pretty dress and hair, I looked like I was falling apart, my body pulling at the seams of my largest sizes, my eyes looking blacked out and dull- not a stitch of joy in my face when I was alone.
This had to change.
Last September I started a juice reboot inspired by the film "Fat, Sick and Nearly Dead" It really changed my way of thinking about how I was feeding myself and caring for my machine ( my machine being *me*)
I quit coffee and went on a 30 day reboot and lost nearly 30 lbs in a month, I felt incredible. Then October happened. I stayed pretty true to my regime but started slipping here and there but because I was hitting up the gym I managed to lose another 10 lbs- down 40 out of a 75lb goal in 2 months-- The November happened and it all fell apart.
Dad gave the rough news that he was stopping treatment and I dedicated my time to him. In all the sorrow and sadness I completely forgot all the hard work I did and in 4 months time gained back everything I lost.
Grief binging, I do not recommend it.
I was halfway there and I gave up on myself.
I was halfway there and I absolutely abandoned all my hard work.
In retrospect, I'm not even sure why- it wasn't like I had to in order to help take care of Dad. In truth I think my old sabotage abilities are always on the scan for a means of tripping myself up and rejoice when they see a window left unlatches or a loophole left dangling.
The first 3 days were hell, in fact such hell that I think I totally alienated a very dear friend by a major meltdown over the dinner table.
One wouldn't think it would be so hard but all the coffee, sugar and starch loading I had been doing to keep myself awake/not lethargic left a huge gap in my chemical makeup when I took them away.
It is now approaching week 2 of me making these cuts and setting myself on a healthier track- there is 11 lbs less of me according to the gym scale and i am feeling a lot more sane/stable/reasonable/reliable than I have felt in a while. It all has to do with self control, something I have never really been good at.
I posted the quote above because it resonated with me, deeply resonated.
I have decided to take this month off from my usual time wasting routines and spend it working on my goals, my body and my art.
I have far too broad a lens right now and I need to narrow it down and figure out what I am really good at.
I have received some hints and signs a long the way recently-- and now I have to create space to DO-- not just talk, think or dream but DO.
My favorite old goat said it best "Don't Try"
You spend your whole life trying, you'll never do anything.
That is why I have it tattooed on my spine.
Because there are days I feel beat down, weary, burdened by my oh so public failures and I whine and I cry and I say I am "trying"
I am sick of my crying- I owe myself the right to shine.
Now, off to shake these pin curls out and go spin some Tom Waits.
Happy 1 year of not getting bored and giving up on something to me and The Raindog Revival.
I'll be writing here in long form as much as I can and if you like my quippy non-sense hit me up on twitter http://www.twitter.com/missnicobella