the question I ask myself
I survived childhood sexual abuse. I survived a soul-shattering divorce and depressions so cavernous that my family feared I’d never climb out. I have been abandoned by a man while travelling in a foreign country. I have grown entire human beings using only my body. Twice. I have had squalling children carved out of my naked flesh. Twice. I have fed babies using only my breasts. I have worn a bikini in public (repeatedly but not recently). I have loved. I have loved a man so physically beautiful that I feared leaving my girlfriends alone with him – and that fear was not irrational. I learned to drive on a standard. I have spoken – well – in front of crowds. I have counselled women who were raped. I have been held down when I didn’t want to be. I have been pregnant when I didn’t want to be (she’s beautiful). I have written myself out of broke and into business. I have ridden a horse that had never been ridden before. I have been hit square in the chest by an errant pitch and got back up and knocked the mothafucka out of the park.
So why am I so fucking stuck right now?
This question triggered a series of pieces in which I try to find the answer to ‘stuck’ – which is where I’ve been, business-wise, for the last several weeks. If you want to follow the series – and hopefully, get unstuck with me – here’s where to start:How to Get Unstuck, Part 1: There Is No Stuck (wherein I decide nothing is wrong with me and that creativity requires rest. Holy newsflash.) How to Get Unstuck, Part 2: Trust Yourself, and The World. You Have Everything You Need. (wherein I realize that I have faith in myself and in faith, itself)