My mother had hip replacement surgery this morning. By the time my alarm went off at 6:30am, she was already in the recovery room (thanks to the three hour time difference). Things went well and we’re all hoping for a healthy and speedy healing process!
Date: July 28, 2015
Days Spent on Project: 889
Location: NW Portland, OR
Person I would have sent it to: TBD
You know, as hard of a time I give myself for not being able to think of 1,000 people to thank with this project, I need to remember not to be so hard on myself. I’m only 36 and the chances that I’d have a thousand people in my memory’s rolodex, ready and waiting to be acknowledged for their contribution to my life, are quite slim.
I’m only 36! I’ll find another two hundred seventy-some people who will make a difference in my life!
Music I listened to while sewing: I’m choosing to listen to more of Simioli today. No idea who they are or what they do, but most of their songs are remixes of a few songs!
Thoughts/Feelings behind the block: Where to even begin!
What to even say?
Let’s quote Tennessee Williams today, why don’t we?
“I don’t know what to tell you. A statement is easy, and here it is: Be yourself. Try to matter. Be a good friend. Love freely, even if you are likely–almost guaranteed–to be hurt, betrayed. Do what you were created to do. You’ll know what this is, because it is what you keep creeping up to, peering at, dreaming of. Do it. If you don’t, you’ll be punching clocks and eating time doing precisely what you shouldn’t, and you’ll become mean and you’ll seek to punish any and all who appear the slightest bit happy, the slightest bit comfortable in their own skin, the slightest bit smart. Cruelty is a drug, as well, and it’s all around us. Don’t imbibe.”
That’s a sobering lesson today of all days.
Sometimes, as much as I don’t enjoy it, Facebook really does deliver things when you need to see or read them…
I’m so afraid that, by coming here, I told the universe that my design career is over.
I’m so afraid that I went to grad school (not even Yale, but grad school) and borrowed 35,000 in student loans for no reason.
I’m so afraid that there won’t be any opportunities for me here in Portland.
I’m so afraid that I won’t find “my people” here, let alone “a person” for me here.
I’m so afraid of being in my mid or late 60s or even 50s or even 40s or maybe 70s and needing major hospital work and not having anyone to come visit me.
I’m so afraid of what happens I really am just a memory in the minds of a few people in New York.
I’m so afraid that I won’t be able to find someone who’ll give me a chance.
I’m so afraid that I don’t deserve a chance. (Shouldn’t something have happened by now?)
I’m so afraid that people don’t think of me.
I’m so afraid of what happens after The Dog is no longer here.
I’m so afraid that I won’t grow if I stay here.
I’m so afraid that nothing I ever do will be seen or noticed by anyone.
I’m so afraid of not doing anything.
I’m so afraid that I won’t get a chance.
I’m so afraid that I won’t take a chance.
I’m so afraid that I gave up.
I’m so afraid that the universe is really trying to tell me something.
I’m so afraid that I’m just being stubborn and slightly ignorant.
I’m so afraid that I’m not good enough.
I’m so afraid that I was never good enough.
I’m so afraid that I wasted my “opportunity.”
I’m so afraid that the “best days” or the “highlights” are in the past.
I’m just a little afraid.
And there’s nothing really wrong. I just feel a little unsatisfied.
But I think you all know that by now?