Day One... The Thesis

This is the first day of the rest of my life. This is the day when it all starts for me.

How many times have I said that? How may times have I followed through……………..a lot less times than I have puttered out….dieing down to the humdrum monotonous life I have been leading for the past few years. Monotonous not in terms of most.

Major move to fresh city, drunken nights dancing, random boys a screwing, and a partridge in a pear tree (please excuse the contradictory religious reference - but Jews are not known for their catchy holiday tunes, minus the Hanukkah song of course).

It started three weeks ago – the unfortunate series of events leading up to me reevaluating the writing I had started in February after a certain incredible concert by the one and only JUSTIN TIMBERLAKE, a man whom I still waiting to receive a present from ……….. in MY box!

I had lost touch once again with the inspiration I had discovered watching this man sing his heart out on the piano.

I was a robot.

AGAIN

Three weeks ago I discovered that the man whom I was waiting for; the man whom I DIDN’T EVEN KNOW I was waiting for, was engaged.

I can’t tell you what I felt at that moment, other than complete loss of hope. And a physical piercing through my heart down into the pit of my stomach through my spine up over my head and squeezed out through multitudes of wet sloppy tears.

He was never going to drive down to DC and take me in his arms and laugh about our time apart. He was never going to share with me the moment that he knew I was the girl he wished to be awoken by every morning.

OK so there are two lies above – one is that there are VERY few people who sleep later than me. And two is that I never really had him in the first place. And the other annoying thing is that I watch WAY too much TV to think that stories like that EVER happen.

I keep hearing this phrase:

“God only gives you what you can handle”

I was destroyed – crying at work. Crying all the time. God heard me. Someone heard me………..

I found an old friend. She is the sister of the soon to be married ex. She was my best friend. She was sent to me like an angel – a muse rather.

She is why I am here RIGHT NOW starting this 30 day process, starting, yet again another journey.

And yet, though she is here, I know it is me doing this. As a child, as a young adult, my fears were about failing. I was so scared to fail that I worked my ASS off (NOT LITERALLY FOR SURE) succeeding. I was great at it. I was charismatic, sexy, talented with a future wide open and free.

Life happened. Some drugs happened, some shitty decisions, a lot of shitty men. I stopped being afraid to fail. I became afraid of something MUCH MUCH worse.

I became afraid to succeed.

This fear is ridiculous when you think about it, and yet probably more prevalent. I am afraid to reach the potential I feel bursting inside of me. Because what if it isn’t really there? What if I am not sexy or charismatic or talented? What if I can’t do it? WHAT IF?

Well this stops here.

This stops today.

I am afraid but fuck it. I am going to try anyway.

I am……………..

Hope and Love,

Soul Dancer