No Longer For My Eyes Only
How many years has it taken me to get this point, to make the leap from journaling to myself to finally getting the nerve to post up to a blog. I really don’t want to think about it right now because in this moment I am finally overriding the twin masters of inner critic and saboteur. They have had their way with me and now its time to evict them from that enormous space in my head they have occupied for much too long. The words are slow to seep out onto the page but they are coming one letter at a time. They arrange themselves as they must and allow me to finally breath the sweet elixir of success in beating back yet one more self crippling demon.
What is it about writing that we find so paralyzing at times? I have created and sold numerous sculpture and only felt a fraction of the nervousness that I feel right now. The longer that I keep my fingers on the keyboard the better I feel about this whole process. It is time for someone else’s eyes read what I write and see the true woman within.
Initially I took up journaling as a part of an emotional healing process. One day I found myself homeless and living in my car, a 1989 Cadilac with the trunk lashed down with a frayed bungi cord. The writing filled a lot of the lonely hours in my car and allowed me to ventilate my feelings in a safe environment. Dubbed the “Hobo Chronicles” I filled pages and pages about my life as middle aged woman in poor health who now found herself spending a lot of time in assorted parking lots and libraries. No one ever wants to be homeless and it happens to more people than we think. Profoundly sick and unable to work I spent long hours in libraries trying navigate a system that makes the Bermuda triangle seem like a pleasure cruise. The majority of people who are homeless are families who through illness, lack of jobs or the loss of employment, or other unforeseen circumstances find themselves living in their car, a tent or if they are lucky in a shelter. Many misconceptions exist about the homeless which is a shame because not only are the homeless treated as societal pariahs but much needed help is limited.
No one wants to be homeless and the majority of them are only homeless for a year or less. This is a topic that I hope to invest considerable time writing about as well as other subjects near and dear to me.
“If no one ever took risks, Michelangelo would have painted the on the Sistine floor”. Neil Simon