. My joints were aching from a combination of age and wear and tear and oh yeah, that time I fell off a mountain. In a car. That. Anyway, that's old news. But I decided that it would be nice if I could put on a jacket without the kind of pain that makes it hard not to scream, so I went to the doc. He diagnosed nerve pain, and prescribed the latest and greatest pill.."just for this kind of pain". So, why not, I gave it a try. And waited. And waited. After a few days I sort of noticed the pain was still there, but duller. But I also noticed my brain was a little foggy. And there were also a few new pounds on my scale. Now, I almost never get on a scale, it's just not where I put my attention. Until my jeans get a little snug.
The battery on the scale was low. It said that, right on the screen. 'LO'. So a week later, with dull pain, and a dull brain, I finally remembered to pick up a new battery. And just to test it out I jumped on the scale to find.... TEN POUNDS????!!!! WHAT? Google quickly confirmed my suspicions that this not so wonderful medicine was the culprit. So of course, I called the doc, he agreed with Google and said the meds were totally optional.And I tossed those pills down the sink. And while Dr. Google assured me that the weight would come off just as quickly as it came on, I was still in a funk. The thing about that ten pounds was that it came along during a week of lots of other things that just weren't going to plan. It felt like along with trying to make things work at work, and figure out how to juggle fifteen things at once, now I was fat? Awesome. Luckily for me, I had a coaching session scheduled with my fabulous Mastermind goddess coach, and of course my response to ' how are you' was a very stressed out, and kind of loud - I GAINED TEN POUNDS. Of course that was followed by the explanation that it was caused by these awful meds and I'd already started to see it come off but still, it had me feeling all kinds of weird and rattled. She was quiet. I waited, embarrassed at my outburst but relieved because I'd gotten THAT off my chest. More quiet. I started to settle into that silence with her. We talked about everything that was going well, how some of the obstacles I was seeing were natural components of finding success in the things I was taking big risks to do. We dreamed and schemed a bit and were almost out of time when she said..."oh, and Tia? those ten pounds? ... with some people I'd ask about the Doritos... but I'm getting the feeling that you have something creative that is really big, that you still need to let out into the world. I mean huge. Like TEN POUNDS of creativity you are just holding on to. I'm just sayin. What do you think?". I felt the rush start at the back of my neck. "The screenplay" I said quietly. I need to write the screenplay for my book. I need to do that." She said..."Well, there you go.You should do that". We talked a little more and that night I grabbed a new notebook I'd bought 'just because' and guess what happened. That ten pounds turned into the first ten pages of a movie. And you know what else? I think she was on to something because before I knew it my jeans were fitting just fine. So my loves... if you're feeling a little bit like life is out of control, or your jeans are feeling a little snug, or you can't find your mojo? Take a minute, settle down, and think - what are you holding on to that is making your life heavier than it needs to be? And then let it go, or let it out. I promise you'll feel lighter quicker than you can say '10 pounds' xo One of the first lessons we are taught in life is to tell the truth. To be honest, and fair. After that come the other rules we hold to as what we loosely term 'civilized societies.' You know the ones I mean- do not steal, do not cheat, do not covet the things that don't belong to you. But that truth thing, it's the one that really sticks with you.
As we grow, and encounter the grey matter that makes up so much of life, we wonder about truth a lot. We wonder if it's better to varnish it a bit now and then to make a point, to dull it down so it doesn't come with too pointed an arrow that could wound someone. Sometimes we think it's better left unsaid, unspoken, untold because of the suffering it might cause - whether to ourselves, or to others. The truth is, truth is often difficult to manage. Some will say that's simply a cop out. If you don't tell the truth you have something to hide. Some will sit right down and share the debate because it's brain fun to wiggle out meaning on a topic this wiggly. But most will simply raise an eyebrow and judge you for even suggesting that telling the truth is not a simple case of true or false. Here's a lesson I recently learned - the hard way. After years and years of sitting in silence with some fairly difficult pain and the truth of that pain in my life, I wrote a book. I struggled with telling a story that is not pretty, is not comfortable and is not easy to look at. But I focused on keeping the truth as plain as I could, and even set this story in a fictional framework to protect anyone who might see a resemblance to those who had a part in that pain, even if all they did was watch the story unfold. But as these things often go, that wasn't enough. Soon after my story was published I received a brutal note from someone whom I'd hoped would read the story and find some compassion for my experience. For my truth. Instead they only found anger and disregard for what they read, as it wasn't their own experience. Their truth. And for that I was to be reviled. To be punished. To be discarded. At the end of this rather confusing message which referred to an 'excerpt' of the book, but didn't call it out - after making it quite clear that I was of no use to them 'then or now', the writer ended this missive with a lovely phrase ; "Go in peace". Which translated, I believe,meant ;" Go away, because your truth is messing with my truth and I'm not having it." In another time, this would have brought me to my knees and had me questioning every word I'd written. I might have apologized and begged forgiveness. But today, after a long journey to what I know matters - I simply recognized this for what it was. And what it was not. I have lived a life that no one else may judge, for no one else experienced it with me. It's my truth. And for that I need not, and will not apologize. It's what we've been taught to do. No one tells us it could be hard, and it could hurt. But we know it's right. And we know what's true. So go ahead my loves - put aside your fears and write your story. Tell the truth. It will, as they say- set you free. It had been a long week away from my kids, I'd been to three states to support different business projects and frankly, I was tired. Even so, time for a single mother of two, with a full time job that involves crazy travel - well- it's a precious commodity.
I had four hours more on that plane ride home, so I pulled out my laptop, and opened up the document that held about five very rough chapters of a story I'd been working on, here and there,for about a year. I liked that story, and it was kind of evolving into something interesting. I asked for a cup of coffee and settled in, reading the last few pages I'd written more than a month before so I would know where to pick up. That's when I heard the pilot's voice over the speaker system."Well folks, he said, we're just about somewhere over Pittsburgh, then we'll turn south to....." I didn't hear the rest. I heard Pittsburgh. My hometown that I'd left when I was 21 and never moved back. For a million reasons. And just like that, memory took the wheel and so many of those reasons flooded my brain. I stared out the window, above the clouds and imagined the landscape below. And then one of those memories started to make my jaw ache and my throat tense as I tried to hold back the tears. And in my mind, I heard my own voice speak these words; "I don't know where Drew is buried". I sat with that a minute. And without really thinking, I closed the open document on my laptop, and opened a new one. And the words I typed without any effort were what became the title of my first book, 'Forgetting Andrew'. That book would take more than six years of writing, stopping, writing, stopping and then finally starting again when suddenly those two kids were grown and out of the house. When I'd moved thousands of miles across the ocean to live and work in London.When all of the things that had kept me from finishing that story had been pushed and pulled out of the way. When all that was left was love, and memory. The story, because it is based on my actual experiences, wrote itself, as they say. I chose a fictional framework because there were elements that appeared to develop organically in the story that I felt belonged there. I like to call this book a work of 'mostly true fiction'. And since it is my book, I can call it anything I want. Call it 'poetic license' if you like. It took me a long time to realize that each of us is the only true author of our own life. And thus, the story of that life. The actual work of writing for me is a way to let go of stories that lived far too long inside my heart, and the key to healing so much of the heartache that had followed me. The words set me free to live again, to write again, and to design the next chapter of my life. I wonder if that will turn into another story I'll want to write. You never know, but I sure hope so. |
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