Regret

All of this extra time that I have lately has enabled me to slow down enough to think about the events of the last 3 years. It has been difficult and scary to delve into those thoughts and remember everything. I also start thinking about my future and my heart skips a beat in panic. I feel like I'm stepping off the edge of the earth into the abyss. I then have to remind myself to live in the moment and those panicky feelings are a perfect time to practice staying present. As I sat down to the computer, this piece of paper that I have on my magnet board caught my eye. I had originally printed it out for my daughter, but kept a copy for myself. It says:

It will be fun to succeed, but not the end of the world if I don't.
What lies before me is an opportunity and an adventure, not a problem.
I will aim to do the best that I can. I won't ruin the experience with perfection.
I have as much right as anyone to try my hand at this.
I am embarking without absolute certainty of all the facts and outcomes, and I'm okay.
My focus is on development, not mistakes.
I'm not afraid to risk and fall short because I know that my worth comes from within.
What really, is the worst that could happen?
This could possibly end up being one of the best experiences of my life.
Relax and enjoy the process, glitches and all.

I love all of those statements. Just reading them takes my anxiety level down several notches. I still get hung up on, "What is the worst that could happen?", because I can dream up plenty of tragedies. I think I'll cross that sentence out.

I spent most of the summer getting myself organized (mainly my room). I spent a lot of time and money at IKEA, but I am really happy with the results. It feels very cozy and it is a great place to hide-out. When I was a kid I was always looking for a space of my own. I used to daydream about living in the bottle that Jeannie lived in on "I Dream of Jeannie". I liked the fact that it was so small and cozy and inconspicuous. Not to mention the velvet, plush and circular couch that filled the bottle. http://www.sonypictures.com/tv/shows/sgn/jeannie/bottle.html

I also had a fascination with doll houses because I wanted a space that I could put my stamp on, so to speak. Whenever we went to the hobby store I would spend a lot of time looking at the doll houses and the doll house furniture. I would plan how I would decorate each room and I could completely envision myself living there, like the Incredible Shrinking Woman. I feel like I was preparing my space to make more room for something really wonderful in my life. Now I just have to wait and waiting always makes me second-guess myself. I was re-reading some poems in "Ariel" by Sylvia Plath and I came across one of my favorite poems of hers, "Nick and the Candlestick." She had written is after the birth of her second child, Nick. She was going through a very creative, manic phase of her life and eventually killed herself. It was a very touching tribute to the hope that the birth of her son brought to her. I feel like that is what I was doing with my project. Preparing my life for the birth of something new and life-changing.

Nick and the Candlestick

I am a miner. The light burns blue.
Waxy stalactites
Drip and thicken, tears

The earthen womb
Exudes from its dead boredom.
Black bat airs

Wrap me, raggy shawls,
Cold homicides.
They weld to me like plums.

Old cave of calcium
Icicles, old echoer.
Even the newts are white,

Those holy Joes.
And the fish, the fish -
Christ! they are panes of ice,

A vice of knives,
A piranha
Religion, drinking

Its first communion out of my live toes.
The candle
Gulps and recovers its small altitude,

Its yellows hearten.
O love, how did you get here?
O embryo

Remembering, even in sleep,
Your crossed position.
The blood blooms clean

In you, ruby.
The pain
You wake to is not yours.

Love, love,
I have hung our cave with roses,
With soft rugs -

The last of Victoriana.
Let the stars
Plummet to their dark address,

Let the mercuric
Atoms that cripple drip
Into the terrible well,

You are the one
Solid the spaces lean on, envious.
You are the baby in the barn.