Warning: Depressing beginning but has a turnaround.

It’s easy to get discouraged as a writer. As an artist. As a human being.

It’s easy to have those days when life just doesn’t line up for you, again and again. When the river of suckage just keeps flowing into your daily experience, and you’re caught in the current carried along to destinations unpleasant – reaffirming your situation.

The last few weeks have been surprisingly difficult to keep my head up, get out of bed, and keep on keeping on. At first I was ashamed of this development. Then angry. Then resigned to several glasses of wine with a huge helping of whiny-brownies. Then for the last week I just sat in it, stewed in the constant sense of rejection that seems to have permeated my life with a rancid bitterness.

Every couple of days I was able to shake it up, feel some gratitude for the life I have, the joy I know I am blessed to call my own. Then a few days later, I slip back into frustrated, lip-gnawing, panicked irritation – then sadness.

Because a person can only hear the word, ‘NO’ so many times before starting to feel boxed in, shut down, rejected or unworthy.

At first I tried not to be too hard on myself about being depressed – this last year I’ve been thrown a bunch of curve balls, near death, traumatizing surgery, vandalism, financial hardship from said issues, new job, fired from new job, and so on.

No one escapes this life without some disappointments, setbacks and changes of best laid plans, so I tried to put a smile on and keep moving forward.

So I spent the summer getting my health back, enjoying my friendships, rediscovering my love of writing and accepting blessings.

All the while I kept hearing – No.

No to countless job applications (literally lost count)

No to writing submissions.

No in dating.

No to the healing of my body.

No in friendships.

No in plans I’d made for the future.

A few weeks ago I thought ‘No’ was the fucking stupidest word in language, and I considered combing through all 440 pages of my manuscript and deleting all the ‘No’s’ just for good measure.

If one more person told me No – I was going to scream at them, “Why don’t you try saying YES – JUST TO BE ORIGINAL!”

So.

Finally, I was lying in bed, thinking about what appears to be a string of colossal failures, disappointments, unbeatable situations, staggeringly bad odds and so on.

And I felt, for the first time in years – like a victim.

Call it victim of circumstance, timing or my own bad choices. Whatever.

But nothing pisses me off more than that feeling.

I am no damsel.

Fuck, I’m not even a lady.

Three weeks of self-pity is 20 days too many.

So.

I decided to pull up my ratty-big-girl panties and dig myself out.

As always, when lying in bed and thinking how much I’d just like to sleep for a hundred years, I remember, my name is Athena. I’m not allowed to wallow in self-pity. People comment on shit like that. I never hear the end of it.

Therefore I sat up last night, building my new plans. You all know how much I love plans.

I began recalling all the times an obstacle would appear in my path and I’d find a way around it, or over the top or even under. Obstacles were always just a proving ground.

Why is this patch in my life any different?

Why have I been waiting on permission to power full-steam ahead?

Why have I been waiting for acceptance?

“This is Houston, you are clear for landing.”

Then I realized….

*drum roll, please*

The biggest, most insistent ‘No’ was coming from myself.

Shit.

Shit.shit.shit.

Because, my own power of ‘No’ will always, hands down, supersede any obstacle placed before me. Always.

The only reason I ever stay in unhealthy, unhappy situations is because I tell myself I must. The only reason I don’t quit is because I tell myself not to. The only reason I stick around is because I choose to.

So why would this situation/patch/rut in my life be any different?

Because somewhere along the line – I stopped telling myself ‘Yes’ – and started telling myself to wait till it’s okay to be accepted, to wait to be wanted, to wait to be needed, trust the system. Just wait.

Essentially, I’ve been telling myself ‘No’ time and time again. Therefore, I will always hear it spoken back to me – it’s the universal law of return. I put it out there – it comes right back.

Damnit. I totally should have seen that coming.

Anyway, to make a long post longer….

I decided last night to break down all the areas of my life wherein I’ve been telling myself to stop and wait, then I plotted out a new plan of action. Functional things I can ACTIVLY do to create a change.

No to countless job applications – will likely mean, re-opening my old business and possibly creating jobs.

No to writing submissions – will likely mean taking the self-publishing route and managing my own career.

No in dating – will likely mean – Cool, I need more time to do my own things.

No to the healing of my body – time to take more active steps in recovery. The worst is over, it’s time to actively start the cleanup.

No in friendships – means I need different friends.

No in plans I’d made for the future – means a slight postponement, followed by a better understanding of what I really want and how to achieve it.

Along with stubborn, people have often called me impatient. I’m not good at sitting and waiting for things to get better/different or to catch up.

Planning the plans is only one step – now comes the part where I have to figure out how to implement said concoctions of future adventure. But the happy side-effect is this….

Deciding to be a Yes-Woman to my own life changes again, frees up the burden of the No-Woman situational oppression. There’s a sense again of possibility. There’s an echoing call to adventure and the breath of wonder that it could seem like such a simple alteration of perspective.

No more waiting.

Time to do shit the BlissQuest way. 

Are you a Yes-Wo\Man to your own life? Do you want to be?

Dear Universe,

You and I have had our disagreements over the years. I get the impression that you see me as a somewhat bumbling dilettante with stars in my eyes and trouble at my fingertips soon to be followed by a sincere and self-deprecating mea culpa.

But while I know we are worlds apart in how we see things, I admit that your ways, though confounding and often infuriating are often, if not always, spot on.

I have never been without significant personal evolution from your heavy hand. Not that I am inviting it, by any means, I’m just acknowledging that hindsight from some of your more – interesting judgment calls – has shed light on things I didn’t previously comprehend.

Like, for example, my decision to give up writing.

I’d come to the conclusion on Monday, May 9^th, 2011 to stop writing. It was a tough weekend of agonizingly, painful weeping and self-torture to conclude that I could no longer push myself into the framework of a corporate bot, make my weekly assignments, have a social life (forsaking a romantic life) write my book and still manage to do well at my job. Something had to give and everything but my writing and finance career already had.

So that left, feeding myself and paying bills – or writing.

I decided that writing needed to be shelved in order to pursue my career as a director of finance.

Tuesday I went to my last critique class, intent to break the news, but couldn’t tell them in person, deciding instead to enjoy my last class then send out a mass email in a few days explaining that I wouldn’t be back.

The healing process from my health issues and four weeks of pneumonia made logic a little fuzzy – but I was certain that giving writing a much needed hiatus for a year or five would be a good, grownup, intelligent decision. The smart thing to do.

Wednesday morning, May 11^th, 2011 I was so angry about the choice that I wrote you, the Universe a grand fuck you letter, posted on my person blog that virtually no one knew about.

Eight hours later, I was fired from my job.

Eight hours.

And no one in management knew about my website. Nor could they give me a reason for being let go. In fact, most of them seemed bewildered and confused – disbelieving. Later they would refuse to give the unemployment office a reason for my termination, claiming “at will”. Although, I heard they promoted internally for less pay and higher degree.

Not that it even matters anymore, because – almost the moment I make up my mind to stop writing – that option is taken away. Without true cause. Without viable reason. Without warning. 

And I was stumped.

Trapped in a daze of ego burn and a sense of betrayal. For months I wondered what I could have done differently. What area I could have fixed.

But as I began to replay it in my mind I realized – my working there was a catastrophe waiting to happen. I walked in to a re-org. I walked into mismanagement. I inherited a team of insubordination and catty backstabber. I inherited an archaic file-system, poor training, three months of backlog and six months of training to catch up, and ego’s the size of China as my so-called-support system. AND no funding or backup to make things run better. Basically, I was in such a hurry to get out of one fire – I dove right in to another.

And on top of all that, which is shameful enough – I planned to give up the one thing I love more than air, sex – even chocolate. I planned to give up writing – for them.

Universe, I know you know me well enough to know that when I set my mind to something – there is precious little that can stop me – unless the option is completely removed.

Interestingly, within three months of being set loose, I’d completed my novel and written four separate drafts. A month later I was knee-deep in the hunt for an agent and contemplating for the first time – like it was an actual option – writing as a career. All this, I’d estimated to my writing group would take me at least another year to two at the rate of full-time+ for the finance world and writing 30+ hours a week.

I hadn’t planned to send my first book to agents until 2013. This, after I’d been working on it since 2001.

Then, one night as I was trying to fathom, imagine, dream what it was that I used to dream – a life of a storyteller, I stumbled across my post from 2006.

            Plan A:

                        I, Athena, will become a storyteller.  I will utilize the written word and the craft of acting.  I will be successful at this endeavor based on the scale of my own personal standards and not the standards of industry or fame.  I will find completion in my work and joy in the process.  I may cry and wail but I will also laugh and dance.  I will find inspiration and wisdom and adventure in this plan.  I will not run away from the responsibility I have to myself to maintain my own level of happiness.  I will create.  I will entertain.  I will not hope for a plan B or otherwise, because this life –is from here forth – the life I choose until it no longer suits me.  I will write, act, travel and live from this day forward as though my dreams are entirely reasonable, realistic and worthy. I will make a safe and comfortable living within this Plan.  I will not be deterred by labels designed to cause shame such as; selfish, dreamer, childish or any other such description put to me with the intention of making me quit.  When I look back over my life I will not find regrets that I didn’t attempt to live my dreams based on fear, or a sense of unworthiness.  I will not let rejection, or the judgments of others keep me from my voice as a storyteller.  Plan A is only a part of Bliss, but it is a huge part, and therefore will be granted the proportionate amount of energy required to feel balanced.  I will not apologize or feel embarrassment for the sheer scale of my dreams.

I, Athena, from this day forth, will strive to complete and maintain Plan A.  I will make alterations to the Plan as needed or as my desires change.  I stand behind this statement of intentions regardless of the repercussions or the negative fallout of my declarations.  I will not demure, or step down, or make myself less to keep a status quo.  This I do swear, on Wednesday the 27^th of September, 2006.  So be it.

In short, Universe, six months ago I was really pissed at you. I was defeated, worn down, ready to give up. The irony is my astrology charts said that May 11^th would be my best day for career in almost 5 years. The day I got canned? Seriously?

But it was followed with a summer of breathing new life into my work. I spent the summer falling in love with my characters again, working on our relationship and allowing myself to remember what I used to dream about.

And in the meantime, while I’ve stressed about survival, little things have lined up in surprisingly simple ways to keep my head just barely above the water while I throw myself into this new venture of writing for life.

I know our friendship has been tenuous at best, but I really appreciate all you do for me. Really. I do. I appreciate that even when I think I can’t take one more defeat, you hand me a rope too short to hang myself with – but long enough to help pull myself out of a rut. Nothing fancy. Just barely serviceable. But it is enough.

I imagine sometimes that you’re laughing at me. Other times, I get the impression that I surprise you. I guess that makes two of us.

The question is what’s next?

We’ve been at this game with one another for 33 years. Where does it go from here? Do you think we can finally be friends? Maybe not bosom buddies. Baby steps after all. But maybe let’s start with a truce, an olive branch, a chance to begin fresh.

I think for my part, Universe, it’s important that it be expressed how grateful I am that you had a hand in keeping me from making a huge mistake. It opened up a vast world of uncertainty – but you know me best – that’s my playground, after all.

Thank you.

Almost exactly six months later – I can say with utter, unrestrained gratitude – thank you.

Even with all the grief and fear, six months later I have my health, my freedom and my dream back.

Here’s to a long and fruitful friendship, full of respect and humor; with a good story to be told when all is said and done. Let’s try and make it a story full of surprising improbabilities, entertaining and revolutionary. I bet no one will believe it – and that’s exactly the kind of life I want. Think we can work on that?

Cheers,

Athena