A week ago I planned full immersion in writing my story. I was going to ride the energy of National Novel Writing Month, which has been building a pretty powerful morphic field since its founding in 2005. (For more about morphic fields, check out the link below.) I’ve been creating shifts for myself and others professionally for a number of years now, so I was aware of the power my intention held. I also knew that my subconscious could sabotage me at any time, hence my participation in this project this month. My decision was made: I was going to have NaNoWriMo’s wave support my writing, buoying me even when I faltered. It felt like a good plan and I thought I was more prepared than last year.
I was taken off guard when a friend whom I’d asked for support told me she didn’t think this was a such good idea. She felt I was doing this because I believed I should. She was right and I got pretty pissed off. Bonnie’s opinion felt like a direct challenge and I was going to prove her wrong, or so I thought. This personality trait has been both a blessing and a curse throughout my life, some times motivating me and other times, rushing me into things I’m not fully prepared for. Cooler heads prevailed and I took Bonnie’s opinion into account. After all, I asked for it! As a Therapist and Certified Coach she has a track record of success with numerous clients. I’d be foolish not to take her point seriously. I revisited my decision, and chose instead to write this blog. I’d still be honoring my willingness to forgo my makeup/mask for the entire month-long project.
What I hadn’t counted on was what that actually entailed.
It hadn’t occurred to me that I would reveal such personal experiences in such a public forum.
I also didn’t expect the huge relief of finally letting it go. Of being just me.
Once I hit ‘publish’ yesterday, I grabbed my wallet and jacket, and headed for the supermarket. I needed to get away from the scene of my crime, or at least that’s how it felt. I bought the groceries and was heading home when the enormity of what I’d done descended on me.
WHAT WAS I THINKING?
STUPID STUPID STUPID.
Tears streamed down my face as I drove home in the dark, in silence.
I found myself slamming the cupboard doors and drawers as I put the groceries away and emptied the dishwasher. Now, I was pissed off at myself. I couldn’t take it back. What’s more, I didn’t want to. I’d set out to be fully immersed in ‘negative visioning’ and go without makeup. Well, this was it. The real deal. Total exposure. Once in it, I found it impossible to do so without truly removing my mask — the one I’d put on all those years ago.
I knew now this was inevitable all along: it was always to be a total surrender.
When I went to bed, my mind had finally quieted from the week’s flood of ideas, phrases, and full paragraphs that woke me throughout the night. My willingness to be visible and vulnerable freed a part of me that had been silenced for far too long. Given voice, there was stillness in the silence.
And for the first time in a long while, I slept.
What unexpected outcomes have you experienced after you changed your mind about something?
Copyright by Donna Cerame, 2014.