What do we tell ourselves?

Oh Friends.

It’s been a time. And the more I connect with others, I realize it’s been a time for so many. I think we are now in aftershock of the pandemic quake making all the small traumas that we are going through on a regular basis seem so much larger than they are. Each time I feel like I’m gaining ground, another little earthquake cracks the surface and I’m pulled under for a time.

Since my last post, I have not in fact been true to what I said I was going to do, and I’ve battled the constant feeling like I should just give up. Like, who am I kidding that I can do all this? And, when I say “ALL THIS” I mean, Parent, Manage House, Work, Volunteer, Have a Social Life, and Make Music…

Which leads me to the question. What do we tell ourselves?

Before I event had kids, I remember having a conversation with someone, maybe my bandmates, about how if I became a mother, I wouldn’t be able to do both. I wouldn’t be able to be a mother, a good mother, and be a musician.

WHAT A LOAD! I didn’t even give myself the chance to explore myself as a mother and musician, but instead said no to everything that made me question if I could do it. I said no to so many opportunities that I would have loved, people I could have met, places I could have seen.

In fact to this day leading up to major gigs, recordings, etc…I become the worst version of myself. So anxious, and my anxiety turns to irrational anger and my family does not get the best of me. But, this music making is always the thing gnawing away at me, so why would it make me so bloody anxious?

I think it’s because of what I tell myself, regularly, under my breath or to my partner’s face. Things like, “they’d be better off without me” or “I can’t do this anymore.” I don’t know how to stop staying these things. The chronic need to people please actually makes me feel less than, because I am not staying true to myself by giving it all to others. There are days at work when I don’t even make it to the bathroom because I can’t slow down enough to see my own needs. Literal, physical needs.

These are some of the reasons why I chose to medicate. But, I realize two years later, that I can’t rely only on the medication the make the changes that run through my core. My chemistry might make it harder to defeat, but I want to make some changes to the internal rhythms that make all the little earthquakes feel worse than the big one.

Part of getting through those earthquakes is making time for creative pursuits. I’ve now had two sessions with creative mastermind and dear dear friend Kenna Burima. While she reminded me n the first session that she is not a therapist, she certainly has helped me see things more clearly than I have in a while. After my first session, I was so happy and bouncing until I walked in the door of my house. I looked at my desk, in the middle of the living room, surrounded by my 5 year olds play kitchen, stuffies, toys, things that I don’t know what they are or where they go. I began to have paralyzing anxiety. WHY, I asked myself, should I feel such anxiety after having such a cathartic and powerful session?

The grave error was this:

The 3rd thing I did, which we both realized should have been the 1st, was Create/Carve out My Altar. I thought I had a desk, this is my space, and we’re good. But no, I had 2 desks, one in my bedroom and one in the living room. Both were dumping grounds for unrelated items. Laundry that hadn’t been put away all week, papers that my kids bring home, all the tiny pieces I find all over the house that I am determined to find a home for. So, after my 2nd session, I went straight to the piano room, and set course for my desk. It’s a makeshift desk, with a plank of wood and two shelves under it. It’s a little high for the chair I have, but it’s all mine. The kids have been warned, the husband already scorned for placing his jackets on my chair.

It looks out into my backyard, and it has the hum of the freezer, which induces the alpha waves in my brain. Now if only the cat could get the memo to not disturb. I don’t know what’s going to be created here, whether it’s music, writing, who knows. But my desk is ready and waiting.