Here I am swimming in a city of creativity and douchery. There is so much that I gather from this city, but somehow I am constantly searching for the real reason of a near decade old move. This is a beautiful city and while I believe this is my place to be right now, the constant fear of inadequacy is supported by the phone calls with Mom. How am I ever going to get done what I need done when I am still living under the beliefs and guilt of my mother? I have never been a "momma" or "daddy's" girl for the record, and yet I am still finding it hard to drop everything and go out to do what I think is my calling. What is stopping me? Fear? The OCD? The crowds? The failure? The constant unknown? The desire to have a mortgage, but don't want to wait another two decades or more to get there. I want a yard and a dog.
Happy Birthday Mom! ;P
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YAWP over the rooftops of the world and ye too will have enjoyment. On the road to recovery one must be allowed to express the things that trouble them the most and yet enable a banter of thoughts that may or may not be troubling. It is a place for validation of doing something productive instead of continuously talking about getting it started. Let's mix it up and set it free.
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