The Flipper or Why Some Stubborn People Have to Be Tossed Off of Roofs In Order to Change Their Lives

In a moment of brazen puffery, I posted the link to this blog on the Facebook page of a group I have been working with called "40 bags in 40 days".  Yes, that means my housekeeping skills are not my strongest skillset.  Ahem.  But anyways, in the midst of all the decluttering, I found myself musing a lot about why it was that I had held onto some items or even acquired them in the first place.  And I realized that during my marriage, when I was not able to get the love I needed from my husband, I tried to fill that hole with stuff.  Just.....stuff.  At the time, money was not an issue.  I also overate, again, an attempt to fill that inner chasm.  I can be pretty stubborn about sticking to a course though, and it literally took a serious accident--in my case a fall off of a roof--to get me to seriously reassess my life and priorities.  That was almost 8 years ago (the accident) and I am still reassessing and redefining (I never said I was speedy!) So.  For posterity, here is the post I shared in 40 bags.....

Oooooookaaaayyyy so a while back there was a thread about weirdness we discovered whilst decluttering. Almost 8 years ago, I fell off a roof, got my leg tangled in the ladder and face planted on concrete. Broke out my front teeth. This was a major turning point for me--lost 150 pounds, began counseling that ultimately led to discovering my husband of 20 years was gay, divorce, and returning to the workforce, getting laid off twice....it's been a helluva decade. I just found the temporary teeth (a 'flipper' that held place while my bones healed enough to do the implants (took over two years) --- I give you The Flipper. It was in my underwear drawer next to my passport (because where else would you keep outdated orthodontia...) Unless somebody out there has a compelling reason...I believe this is outta here!

So I'm sitting in my dining room with a case of Food Coma....not finishing the crossword puzzle and listening to my boys brawl in the living room (its a video game--if they are going to REALLY brawl it has to be outside) and the laptop screen is mocking me.  I have just provided a link to this blog to a facebook group dedicated to decluttering (hi ladies!) because I am tired of NOT being a writer.  Of NOT playing with words every day.  Of NOT creating worlds and spinning webs of intrigue....being villainous and princess-esque... silly and serious and everywhere in between.  All of my life I have been told I am a good writer.  All of my life I have loved stories...reading them, hearing them, telling them, living them, brandishing them....it is time to create some.  My family and my friends who might as well be family tell me to write.  All the signs from heaven and the universe say to write.  And yet....I resist.  Bullheaded and stubborn I am.  To a fault.  Beyond a fault.  (hmmmmm.....what is beyond a fault....there's something I'll be pondering at 3 am).  I give up!  I surrender!  If you don't hear from me send me a scathing note that I need to get my 15 minutes in. There.  It's public.  My daily writing goal.  Bare minimum.

I have, in various stages of production:  a 'chick lit' book with a semi-crime fighting spunky heroine that could play into a series if I do it right; a YA feeling fantasy/epic adventure type of book; various stories that I have no idea where they could exist (I did "pin" a list of the 50 publications that publish literature, but I'm not sure I'm the lit type--not really all that highbrow.)

I have been really successful at the New Year's Non Resolutions (see previous post).  I have decluttered bit by bit.  Still decluttering but the apartment is in much better shape.  I am getting my feet back under me after a lot of financial stress.  Not there yet, but getting there (PS being a responsible adult sux) and have begun the whole eating better exercising thing bit by bit, small habit change by small habit change.  So now the writing.  I will do this nibble by nibble, scary step by scary step.  Jugular exposed. Be nice.

2014--Fewer Words, More Actions

Oh hey look--it's New Year's Day and time for resolutions. I once read an interview with Sting where he said that he was amazed his wife had stayed with him as long as she had because he tended to "live inside his head" the majority of the time.  That rang so true to me--I have this whole life going on in my head that has nothing to do with reality, but I would really like for it to become reality.  I'm actually not a big one on annual resolutions....it seems like a setup for failure--large outsize goals and then crashing failure when it doesn't happen.  I think perhaps I am more of a daily resolve kind of gal.  In that spirit, though, rather than set a specific goal, what I would like to do is make smaller changes, day by day, to ingrain new habits and make permanent life changes.  Hopefully this will work better for me than Grand, Overarching Goals.  So, here we go.  This year, I will do or have:

• less planning, more doing
• less panic, more prayer
• less brinksmanship, more small consistencies
• less fear, more faith
• less bravado, more resolve
• less ass, more muscle
• less fake it, more make it
• less stuff. Just. Less. Stuff.

Don't just dream big--do big. Or do small until it becomes big.  Just do.