Is this a loaded question for you?

This week, my guru asked me what is making me most anxious. My answer was that “I don’t know what I am doing.” In the last 6 weeks or so, I have felt like I don’t know where to start. I haven’t gotten very far on a number of things that are in front of me because every time I sit down to write or organize or plan, I am triggered but my “Mr. Garbage Can” amygdala and he tells me exactly that. “How can you plan a tour? You’ve already gotten two nos, so why are you still trying?” Or, I simply spill something and my life is over.

And then I get stuck.

We, my guru and I, worked through that sentence and tried to make positive variations of it.

1. I know what I am doing

2. I can do what I’m doing

3. I see what I’m doing

4. I do what I’m doing

5. I feel what I’m doing

6. I do what I’m being

7. I know what I’m being

8. I am.

Like pulling bubble gum out of my hair, we uncovered my garbage pit. I feel like I have no value unless I am doing. Doing=My Worth. My garbage pile holds thousands of ideals like this. It’s the reason why I burnt out at the facility, it’s the reason why I can’t get anywhere satisfactory in my music career, it’s the reason for a lot of my guilt.

Before things fell apart, I had routine. It was me and the kids and when their Dad was home he was incorporated into it. We all need to know what to expect, otherwise it feels like the other shoe is always going to drop. When covid came, suddenly we never knew what to expect. I went under the blankets and didn’t come out. Now, when I want to see the light of day, it’s hard. I feel like I’m water swirling down the drain.

In the end, we decided that I would do two things:

1. Re-establish a routine that maintained the nourishment of my family without having to overthink it.

2. I would re-establish my magic hour. In that hour when I wake up, I can do anything, as long as it pleases me.

The idea of what pleases me is a real humdinger. What does please me? It’s different than what do you like. What pleases you is a real connect to your body, to your primal self, to the skin suit that keeps you moving. What you like is so intellectual, it’s removed.

That afternoon, I spent almost 75 mins lollygagging around The Superstore, without mental restraint. I purchased a bag of mini eggs (post Easter sale!) and I indulged while I warmed up my lunch. I ate the pasta I normally would have saved for someone else in my family, and I watched the first 30 mins of Frida with Salma Hayek because I remember feeling moved after watching it 20 years ago.

On Friday, after the kids went to school and I finished my errands, I prepared myself a huge plate of sautéed mushrooms with a fried egg on toast, because it pleased me. And those things? I knew how to do. Once I remember that I can do things, maybe the rest won’t be so alarming.