The (Long) Story that Sticks

I was talking with a friend yesterday about singing.  It's one of those things that I know I need to do.  It's also the absolute scariest thing for me to do. Singing does create the most exhilarating feelings.  It's also the most horrifying thing I can think of doing whilst others are present.   It's hard to convey the depth of the fears that I hold around singing.  The story I hold of the fear it brings up has grown to be ridiculously large.  Perhaps by sharing the story, I can begin to grow beyond it....I hope.

I sang a lot as a child.  I would set up my wooden toy box as a stage.  I would perform dramatic concerts for audiences filled with my beloved stuffed animals.  My treasured microphone could be tuned to project my voice over the radio, and was truly the coolest toy a kid could ever hope for.   I always wanted to be a singer.  I couldn't begin to count how many sleepovers consisted of long days and late nights performing the hits of ABBA and Grease.  As I entered high school, I began singing for school events such as Homecoming coronations and Prom.  I loved it.  It was scary, but thrilling.  Sometimes a bit of fear would prevent the performances from being as good as I may have hoped, but it was manageable.  (The one exception was when I sang horrendously at my high school graduation, but I contribute the failure of that performance largely to the fact that I'd been crying for hours beforehand and continued to cry throughout the song).

Then came college.  I didn't audition for band or choir when I first started college because I just didn't think I'd be good enough to compete at that level.  I'd come from a very small town with a small talent pool.  I figured that being good back home had little meaning in the larger world.  After I had Hannah and went back to school at the age of 21, I decided to major in Music.  I began taking voice lessons, which also meant I had to sing for student recitals and masterclasses.  Masterclasses were hellacious.  As students, we would sing a piece in front of all of our peers as well as the entire vocal faculty.  Following the performance, we would be critiqued by each of the faculty members while still standing on stage in front of the audience of our peers.  The intention was that we'd all have the benefit of learning from our peers mistakes as well as from our own.  Seriously??  This was the beginning of a big dropping point for me.  For one thing, I had lost much of my musical confidence being, as they say, the small fish in big waters.  Being a young single mom had somehow taken a toll on my confidence, as well.

These recitals and masterclasses all run together for me.  They are all one long lump of embarrassment, disappointment, failure.  The physical reaction to the fear I'd have as I prepared to perform and as I attempted to perform, was astounding.  My arms would go numb up to my elbows.  My head would spin.  I wouldn't feel connected to my body.  I couldn't catch my breath, nor could I find my voice.  The sound that came from my body was something I was unfamiliar with.  And it was something I hated.  It was weak.  It shook.  It was quiet and off-tune.  Despite all the "relaxation" and "visualization" techniques that my voice teacher would provide me with, the same thing would happen each time.  The performance was always followed by irrelevant and painful critiques of my failed performances.  These critiques were, of course, witnessed by a large portion of the students in the music department.  Humiliation.  Following each performance, I'd sob for hours.  The frustration was so intense and seemed so insurmountable.  I tried over and over again, but it didn't get any better.  The physical reaction to other performances that I'd attempt were the same as the ones I experienced while in college.  The fear grew larger and larger.  The fear of failure in front of an audience wasn't just a fear created in the back of my mind.  It was something that I'd experienced a multitude of times.  This same fear still strikes me, a full 12 years following my college graduation, every time I sing in front of almost anyone.

There have, thankfully, been a more and more exceptions as the years have passed.  The two times I sang for weddings since college, I've taken beta blockers.  They are fabulous little pills intended for those with high blood pressure.  They are also, however, prescribed for those of us who experience physical performance anxiety.  They work wonders.  They erase all the physical symptoms of fear, but they do not erase the fear itself.  The emotion of fear is still just as intense.  The taste of failure is still ever present.  And without beta blockers, still after all of these years, the fear is strong enough to make me lose my breath and make my voice quiver even when I sing in supportive groups of friends.

So, when people say, "Why don't you just sing??!!"  This is what I can't adequately explain.  I'm so freaking scared that it's paralyzing.  And yet, I know I need to get past this.  And the only way to work through the fear, is to face it head on.  To stop letting it stand on me.  To rise up and chase it.  I know I can't waste any more years preparing myself for this battle.  Somehow, I just have to find the strength to do it.  I'm just not sure how.

Spiraling Outwards

Isn't it interesting how frequently patterns repeat themselves in our lives?  And isn't it even more interesting how often we make the same choices that we've made in the past, even if those choices didn't lead us to the places we want to be in?  Here's to those moments when we see a pattern a choose a different path this time around, even if the old path looks rather appealing.  Here's to breaking out of the round and round of the circle and spiraling outwards instead.  May we all make new choices in all of the areas that haven't worked for us in the past.  May we all find ourselves in amazing new places that we didn't even realize existed. 

Mantras...especially on bad days

 On Saturday I got a letter from the IRS regarding the tax return that I was expecting to receive before the end of this month.  (I filed in February!)  I bought my first house this year, so I'm supposed to be getting that beautiful $8000 tax credit.  The letter basically stated that in order for me to receive that credit, the IRS needs me to provide them with papers that, in my case, don't exist as my house was owner financed instead of being financed through a bank.  The letter put me in a crazy freaking out spin because I really need that credit.  Without it I would owe the IRS $4500, which I most certainly don't have.  I spent all of Saturday afternoon freaking out and being very crabby and irrational.  (Hannah would be happy to confirm the truth of this statement...I was really no fun at all).  But then, I went to the gym and made myself say mantras.

Saying mantras and all of that positive shit is not what I've programmed myself to do when I'm freaking out.  I just want to be pissed and freak out.  I'm discovering, however, that forcing myself to say mantras is especially important on bad days. In addition, saying mantras while doing cardio is not only great for my work outs because I work harder, but it's also a very effective time for me to say mantras.  There's just more force behind them.  And, they worked!  I felt exponentially better after my mantra workout.  The IRS wants to give me my full return.  I am a money magnet.  I have so much prosperity and abundance in my life that it's overflowing and I can spread it to others.  And, if the IRS chooses not give me the credit, it's really not a big deal.  I'll just have to pay over time.  It's most certainly not worth being upset about. My life is beautiful with or without my tax credit.

So now we know that mantras can indeed change my feelings about reality.  I wonder if they can bring me my tax return.

Changing Reality

I have a quote posted on a wall in my bedroom that I rarely even notice is there.  It says, "Wonderful one, are you beginning to understand that it's not reality that changes, it's what you believe that changes reality?" -Byron Katie

I've been thinking about the power of the mind and of mantras.  Mantras are defined as "a sound, syllable, word or group of words capable of creating transformation."  I am loosely referring to mantras as anything that we say or think repeatedly and with intention. 

I've gone through brief periods of time in my life when I've said mantras.  It seems to me that they actually do spur change.  Perhaps if we repeat something frequently enough, we really can transform our reality.  Or perhaps, through the repetition, we simply convince ourselves that what we're saying is true, leading us to make different choices which in turn change our reality.  I don't know how mantras work, but it indeed appears that they do.  I wonder, then, why I never seem to continue saying them on a regular basis.  I'm committing to saying mantras for 5 minutes every morning for a month. We'll see what happens. 

Back to the Beginning

So, it seems that I have strayed a bit from my intentions to blog regularly.  There are two reasons for this, and it is my intention not to let either of these reasons stop me again.  One is that my blog exposes me...the insecure pieces of my inner being....the pieces that only those closest to me are generally allowed to see.  The other is that the next steps in my process are very scary to me and have been sitting in front of me...looming larger and more formidably than the Great Wall of China, for most of my life.

Why is it that exposure is so frightening?  You'll all still love me if the things I write sound dorky, right?  And you'll all still love me if I mess up, right?  And you'll still love me if my voice shakes when I sing?  So why is it that it remains so scary to show myself?  And why is it especially scary to show myself to my own mom?  (Sorry mom, but I have to admit that I had a very hard time making myself blog when I knew you were reading it.  But you can go ahead and keep reading while I go through my process if you discover that I'm blogging again.  That will just be part of my process, too).  I don't know the answer to this question.  Maybe I'll never discover the answer, because maybe it won't be a question anymore.  Perhaps by taking my steps towards living my path, it will become an irrelevant ponderance of my past.

And, why does that Great Wall seem so large?  Can I shrink it down to a little row of bricks that I can step over?  Or better yet, do cartwheels upon?  I hope so. 

I find it interesting how blogging somehow helps me to find clarity and deeper understanding of my own hurdles.  Journaling does this as well, but it doesn't carry the depth for me that blogging does.  It is quite clear to me that the reason for this is that in order to do what I'm meant to do with my life, I need to expose myself.  My path requires it.  So the blog, like streaking naked through cyberspace, is it's own baby step in my process of learning to expose myself.  Scary.  Or as Christine would say...Not scary... Exciting and invigorating! (Maybe it really will help me to learn to take the emotion of fear and channel it into the sensation of thrill?  I'm workin' on it).

So, back to the beginning with me.  I started this blog with the intention of using it as a tool to assist me in living each moment of my life to it's fullest potential, of leaving my fear based "what ifs" behind me and of fulfilling the purpose(s) that I was given in this life.  I will find a way to live my path with joy, thrill and invigoration...and I hope you all will too!!

Doing away with the Doormat status

I've always hated confrontation, and in many cases will avoid it to my own detriment.  It's just so much easier to walk away from a difficult situation than it is to face it, with all the discomfort that comes along with it. The unfortunate thing about walking away is that by doing so I'm often cheating myself out of what I deserve, along with the beautifully relieving feelings that come from resolution.  I'm also frequently left with feelings of resentment and anger which can take a long time to dissolve.  I'm quite sure nothing good can come from harboring such feelings.

Yesterday I got a call from a guy who was, until recently, was a roommate of my neighbors across the street.  Let's call him....Bubba.  Bubba had an unfriendly parting when he moved out and so he, inspired by a multitude of ulterior motives which he disguised as nobility, informed me that the neighbors were the ones responsible for the hit and run accident my poor car suffered seven months ago.  Bubba was in the backseat of their car when it occurred.  To clarify, my car is technically totaled, being of little value to begin with, but I haven't had the funds to get it fixed.  It's missing a headlight and the hood only opens with a great deal of effort and trickery.  Now, these hit and run neighbors are people who I frequently talk with.  Neighbors who I talked to about my car being hit, in fact.  They had plenty of opportunity to own up the the accident and take responsibility.  They've opted not to.  When I first got the call from Bubba, I responded by saying that I was glad to know the truth so that I knew what kind of people I was dealing with in my neighbors, but that I was just going to let it be and not say anything.  I didn't want to stir up the pot and cause friction with people who I know will most likely be my neighbors for many years to come. 

Then last night I had a dream.  In the dream I talked to the neighbors about what had happened and they responded well, took responsibility, and got my car fixed.  It was such a fabulous and empowering feeling!  I woke up wondering why on earth I should just let them walk away from their responsibility while absorbing the loss myself JUST to avoid upsetting them.  It seems fairly ridiculous, doesn't it??  So, as you may have guessed, I've decided that I have to go have a conversation with the neighbors.  Ug.  I get a belly ache just thinking about it.  But, the sooner the better...right?  Maybe I'll call them right now.  Maybe...

Running Like the Wind

I've never been a runner.  There was a time in my youth when I enjoyed running short sprints, but long distance...never.  Every forced attempt at running would inevitably result in intense side aches, nausea and pain...especially, in later years, pain in my knee.  Saying that I've despised running is truly an understatement.

In 7th grade I went out for Track and Field with the intention of being a sprinter.  During the entire season, there was not one day at practice in which I was able to run the 1-2 mile warm-up without both feeling sick and having to walk a large portion of the distance.  I begged my mom, with no success, to let me quit, as I found my daily track practice to be unbearably torturous.  And do you remember when we had to run the dreaded mile in PE for fitness testing?  In 8th grade I actually ended up in the nurses office afterward because I believed myself so sick from the experience. 

On the flip side, I've been having a recurring dream for a number of years in which I can run like the wind.  I can run fast and endlessly.  I have intense strength and endurance.  When I run I almost feel as though I'm bounding across the sky on clouds.  It's pure bliss.  I feel like I've broken out of stifling confines that I didn't even realize I had only to have finally discovered complete joy and freedom.  (Is this what a runner's high feels like?  I want one!) 

I wonder what this dream means in my life.  Recurring dreams most certainly recur for a reason.  Is the message figurative or literal?

This entire train of thought occurred after my trip to the gym today.  I decided to forego my typical time on the elliptical in favor of the treadmill.  I was intending on walking and just doing a few short stints of running to get my heart rate up.  The crazy thing that happened is that after I started running (as slowly as one can possibly run, I might add) I didn't feel like I needed to stop.  I never got a side ache, I didn't feel nauseous, my knee didn't hurt.  I certainly didn't feel fabulous, however.  My calves burned and my hip wasn't particularily into it, though not completely against it, either. The miracle here is that I actually ran two miles without stopping!  I'm pretty sure that's the first time in my entire life I've ever done that.  It felt great...except for the vertigo I felt when I got off the treadmill, of course.

I wonder if I'll find a love for running which mirrors that of my dreams.  Or, will the blissful feelings of strength and endurance manifest in some other form.  I guess we'll start by seeing how my hip feels tomorrow.  :)

When the Real Work Begins

Well, it's 3:30 in the afternoon and I have, thus far, not made a whole lot of progress on my living each moment to the fullest yet today.  Taking a nap does sound fabulously appealing at the moment.  But, this is about the real work.  This not about taking naps when I'm not tired.  This is not about spending hours at a time playing backgammon and spider solitaire on my computer.  This is about pulling myself out of the habits that prevent me from growth.  This is about putting in the time and doing the work.  I've made the first baby step.  I deleted backgammon from my facebook account last week so I can't waste time playing it anymore.  Today, I will attempt to delete the rest of the games from my computer.  I shall remove the temptations....and likely be very annoyed with myself at some future time for having done so. 

I've made the discovery in the past and am currently in the process of rediscovering the fact that exercise does, in actuality, change my reality.  I joined a gym a month ago and have been pretty faithfully going to the gym 5 days a week.  The result is that I've mustered the energy to begin this blog and hopefully, the work that will accompany it.  It's a good start.  Do you know that the rumors about exercising are true??  It makes us happier and more energetic.  It lowers stress levels and makes us more able to envision and achieve positive things.  I will admit that I hate the gym every day before I go, and often spend many hours early in the day thinking about how I don't want to go.  I will also admit that I hate the gym even more while I'm there putting in the time.  But, I will also say that I love the gym immensely right as I'm coming into the homestretch with my workout.  And I love it even more when I come home with my seratonin high.  In order to ensure that I continue going to the gym, as I think it's a key for me achieving great things, I've signed up for 6 months of non-refundable weekly personal training sessions.  Now, I really can't stop!  I'm on my way.  In fact, I'm going to go to the gym right now!  (And, I commit to going to the gym first thing in the morning from now on).

The Beginning

We all come to this life with innate gifts.  I don't believe that these gifts are accidental.  They're all tools we need in order to fulfill our purpose in life.  And we need to fulfill our purpose in life in order to be, well, fulfilled.  And yet...here we are.  Or perhaps, here I am.  Doing everything except the very things I feel I need to be doing.  I've been talking about doing these things for years.  In fact, I've been talking about doing these things since some of  my earliest childhood memories.  And yet, with each passing day, and each passing year, I've come no nearer to actualizing my purpose.  I've actually moved farther and farther from it.  I put it off for this reason and for that reason.  I've got so many fabulous excuses for why I'm not doing anything worthwhile.  Every day I yearn for a life that I've been preventing myself from having.  I feel like a vital part of myself is missing.

So many of us do this to ourselves.  And why do we?  There are so many theories.  Simple procrastination?  I'm quite a master of procrastination, so that could certainly be a contributing factor.  Fear of success?  I've heard that one many times, but really, that theory has really never resonated with me.   I think we do it out of fear of failure and disappointment.  The fear of "what if."  What if I finally try and realize that I really can't do it and all my hopes are destroyed and I have nothing left to dream of??  What if I try and succeed and find out that it's really not all that great after all?  What if I try and make a fool of myself and expose the fact that I'm not perfect for all the world to see??  WHAT IF???  Well, what if?  That's the question.  And I intend to discover the answer.  Thus begins my journey through the confines of procrastination and fear.  Thus begins my journey to live each moment to its fullest, because I'm pretty sure that's a key component to truly finding joy and fulfillment in life.  Thus begins my journey to become the person that I came here to be.  Wish me luck!