Licked my Wounds

First let me say thank you to those of you who responded with heart-felt words to my recent blow-up. I thank the heavens for having sent me friends like you.

I have licked my wounds and bounced back.

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I opened a book today and found this: "As you awaken your creativity, you stir the cauldron of your life."

The Creative License by Danny Gregory (cool book)

So I suppose it makes sense then that I'm creating drama as I try to recreate my life. All these things I had successfully hidden in little compartments within myself are suddenly popping up like a disturbed creek bed. And I suppose if I follow that analogy, there are things in a creek bed that are too heavy to be carried and washed away. Those things settle to the bottom and are better left in place. So I suppose there are things in my 'creek' that are better left alone and undisturbed. As in a creek bed, they are only a minute portion of the whole. So as frustrating or painful things may have been, they are only memories. They no longer have substance. They are not 'me'.

And yet, in a strange way, I am thankful to have experienced them. It makes me appreciate things more so than if I had nothing to compare to. I'm thankful for a great hubby because I know what a bad one is. I'm thankful for silence because I know the constant sound of sirens, fights, and just...noise. And so much more that I may otherwise have taken for granted.

I don't have many childhood memories but one stands out. I was 11 and laying in bed with my mom with tears streaming down into my ears. I was arguing that I couldn't figure out what I was supposed to do with my life. My mom laughed and said I was too young to worry about that. I argued that the clock was ticking and God wouldn't have wasted a life by sending me here if I wasn't supposed to do something. Funny how here I am 31 years later and still in the same predicament. But this time, I'm not so desperate. I feel I'm on the right path now even though I don't know where I'm going.

I know my parents were destined to have the lives they had. It was their chosen path. I know my family is happy that I am finally more content than I've ever been. Honestly, I was worse! But I know I confuse them. They've asked me what it is I'm looking for-why can't I be content with what I have. I always respond..."I have no clue." It's not materialistic. It's an urge inside for something. A call for something. And I think at times I become confused and dramatize what's in my environment so I don't have to keep searching inside.

And I opened another page in Danny Gregory's book and found "What happens when you stifle creativity?"

In a nutshell it explains that people are able to suppress their creative dreams for fear of failure, disappointment, rejection, etc.. It says we have a little ember that flickers inside that we tend to lock into a big steel box in the hope of putting it out. But the little ember instead heats up the box and the urge surfaces again. And so I suppose my little ember is melting the compartment walls, stirring up the sediment and creating havoc. But this time before I lock the box again, maybe I'll see what happens if I let it go. What do I have to lose? My sanity? Naw, it just feels that way. I suppose my drama is a misdirected form of my creativity...

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"When the individuality of the artist begins to express itself, what the artist gains in the way of liberty he loses in the way of order." Pablo Picasso