Sometimes we can’t say the things we really want to say. Or conversations stop and switch before we get to make the point we really wanted to make. Or we have a delicate or difficult question we really want to ask but miss the opportunity or lack the courage to ask it. What happens when we hold onto these unspoken pieces of ourselves?
Do you forget about them or do you play them over and over in your head? Do you have 1,000 conversations rolling around inside of you…Or is it just me?
Every time I drive these conversations begin to surface. I tell an obnoxious friend that I love them but I don’t like them right now. I ask my closest male friend if I’m pretty or beautiful or plain. I yell at the boys(s) that broke my heart. I share my deepest dreams and fears with the man I love…In my head…as I drive.
I wonder if any of it will come true. I wonder if I should tell my friend that they are being obnoxious. Or if I’m pretty or plain. Or if the man I love would run were I to show him the raw version of me.
In the end, 990 of those 1,000 conversations stay in my head. Of the 10 I say out-loud, maybe one goes well; the rest should have been left unspoken. But how do you know if you keep it all inside? How do you know anything if you don’t take the risk and try?
Sometimes things just click. A problem suddenly has a solution. A wish becomes a reality. A missing piece in your life gets found so that you are now complete. I feel like I’m seeing things click into place left and right these days. It feels like I’m in a kind of sweet spot. I’m forming a clearer vision of what I want and how I can accomplish it.
Funny, but its the accomplish part that always seems such an obsticle.
To be honest, I think that I’m at a point that has been a good four years in the making. All the failing to accomplish over that time has brought me here and now with the perspective, understanding and humor I need to finally find the answer, fill the gap and get what I need not just what I want.
This morning I read an entry at Low Hanging Fruit . It spoke of The Artist’s Way by Julia Cameron, a beloved excercise for many friends of mine. The article discussed one assignment from The Artist’s Way which was to picture your life 12 weeks from today. How will it look? What will be different? What will you have created? An amazing idea and one I’m putting down on paper.
What will your life look like in the next three months? What do you want to accomplish? How will you succeed? How may you fail? What do you need to do to find your own sweet spot?
I found a time capsule the other day. I’d heard a song from long ago and it sent me on a quest to find my collection of albums by the same artist. But I got sidetracked by a vision of myself from seven years ago encompassed on a discarded compact disk. The collection of songs it holds shows a moment in time when a girl loved a boy. They are a mix of artists who relate all the hopes and dreams of a girl happy to have found a boy. A mix that holds so much joy and hope and confession that transport me to that other life and that other love and the innocence of it makes me smile.
I’d forgotten about the disk and, to be completely honest, I’d pretty much forgotten about the boy too. I suppose it says a lot about the one-year, long-distance relationship I had with him. A photographer and writer, David lived in London and I lived in New York. I traveled to visit him, the boy that I loved in the city that I loved. He never made the trip to visit me – there was always a lens to purchase, a job stalking a celebrity to take, a writer’s retreat to go on.
In the end I broke it off.
I was days away from moving back to London and decided it was time to end our story. I find it funny in a sad sort of way that I chose to end our romance at the moment we could have finally seen each other everyday. I don’t regret my choice because I’d grown tired of dating an artist.
A relationship with someone who is driven by the need to create is difficult. We are in turns selfish, frenetic and distracted. We need company one moment and complete solitude the next. We need care, attention and above all, patience. Being in a relationship where both partners are artistic can either be magical or completely combustible but for me it was simply distracting. And exhausting.
I didn’t like the feeling that I was always second to his photography and my work was secondary to his own. I needed to be his first passion and I wasn’t. But on the other hand, he wasn’t mine.
I want love again, but not one of innocence and hormone-induced joy. I want a love that puts me first but understands that every now and then I need to put my need to create first. I want a love that recognizes the beauty in the mature woman standing here with scars and fears and unrealized dreams. Maybe, when I find that love, I’ll make another mix full of songs reflecting who I was, who I am and who I want to be.