Overflow

I am overwhelmed, just digging through a large volume of stuff to do as well as reacting to new possibilities coming at me.

I forget that this can be stressful. I forget that I can get stressed. I still catch myself in that old, familiar habit of simply not feeling the feelings that might be negative. Instead, they swirl around inside, unacknowledged, and wake me up at night. That’s always my first clue: Oh. You’re feeling some pressure.

Amazing to me that with all my years of experience, my age and wisdom, my years of therapy learning to untangle unneeded or expired defense mechanisms that I can still swallow some feelings whole. Me, who (seemingly) lives every single moment of my life out loud and in public, for my own edification and education, and for others, for company.

But last night I slept all night instead of waking up and staying awake for three hours. And with the soothing power of being well-rested, I can see more clearly.

I am going to take some risks.

I am going to step outside my box.

I am going to challenge my own ideas of what “security” I need to be “safe.”

I am going to trust that I am as smart, talented and driven as I really do know myself to be.

I’m going to man up.

That’s, a little joke. By that what I mean is I am going to assume that because I am confident I can do 80 percent of the opportunities in front of me, that I can of course do or learn how to do the other 20. Men consider themselves suited for a position if they can do fifty percent of a job.

So yeah, I’m going to take on a bit of that attitude.

I am nervous, friends. Nervous to push myself onto higher ground. Not nervous that I can do the work, but nervous about leaving paychecks behind. The trusted rhythm of direct deposit is a powerful soporific, no doubt. But I don’t want to sleep. I want to live, and learn, and amaze myself, and push myself. And be interested in the work I’m doing. And get to choose the work I’m doing.

So here goes nothing. Or, more honestly, here goes something. Let’s just hope it’s something great.

And in the meantime, I’ll keep trying to feel my feelings of anxiety, uncertainty and doubt, and remember that they are all just part of the package of the freedom, creativity and influence I so definitely crave.

Geronimooooooo!

About stacy

I am a writer, author, mother, former magazine editor (last at Redbook), optimist, and, above all, a searcher. I'm still searching for whom I'm really meant to be, after a series of very jarring losses: a divorce and house disaster that led to a book (Falling Apart In One Piece); a week after the book came out, my parents suddenly fell gravely ill, I resigned from my job (and, apparently, my career), my son went into crisis, my parents then rapidly died four weeks apart, and my boyfriend (who had moved in with me and my son just weeks before the book came out) began the painful journey of realizing we couldn't make our relationship work (that story unfolded on this blog). Since then I've been trying to figure out what's next. Or, in other words, how to fill in the blanks.
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5 Responses to Overflow

  1. Rita says:

    Sounds more like, “here goes everything.” In a good way. 🙂

  2. Denise says:

    You’ve got this.

  3. alexandra says:

    Growing.
    Evolving.
    I love when something new happens to me every year.

    You want this, Stacy, I feel it.

    xo (if you need me, I’m here)

  4. Chivas says:

    Exciting & terrifying & necessary! I’m also taking a leap into the unknown & reading your words reminded me I’m not alone. Thank you. Sending a giant hug!

    • stacy says:

      Chivas! So lovely to see you here, friend. The unknown is actually all there is, right? We just convince ourselves otherwise, in the belief that routine makes life predictable. So hard to let go of safety, even if it’s an illusion.

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