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I have said it many times before: the
more comfortable you are with being
uncomfortable, the happier you will be.
Usually after saying this, I launch into
a flippant discussion about how comfortable
I am with being uncomfortable.
"Sfumato," I will say, "like Leonardo Da
Vinci said, is something to value. Not
knowing is good. Wobbly is positive."
Whenever I hear myself speak like this,
I know I am in for a fall.
Today is literally the first school
day in two years I have had to myself.
For the last four hours I have had no
immediate worries about anyone except for me.
I was feeling so good about myself and my
progress in this silent home office, I decided
I needed an assignment. I needed a big-feeling
assignment.
I read a tweet this morning from Dave Sherman,
who calls himself "The Creativity Ninja", about
writing what is uncomfortable. It is a favorite
topic of mine and I was feeling pretty darn sure
of myself given it was the first day of school,
Emma's first day of high school, Samuel's first
day of his last year of elementary school.
I decided I could tackle this whole concept of
writing what is uncomfortable. After all, it is
what I suggest for my own writing students. Just
this weekend I told the group I was working with,
"If you are uncomfortable it's a good thing. It
means you are onto something."
Just like when I learned to skate at thirty seven
years old. I was doing great, so great, in fact,
that after about an hour of free skating I thought
I would show off to my instructor. She attempted to
coach me on form and down I went after I
attempted to overcorrect using her coaching.
Not only did I land on my butt, I attempted to
brace my fall with my arm.
I didn't know it at the time, but I had fractured
my elbow. I leaped right back up and kept skating
after I fell. I didn't want my children to be
concerned or to think when you fell down you
left the rink. Even feeling in great pain and
very uncomfortable I kept skating.
These are tried and true rules, afterall:
1. You fall down, you get up, you dust
yourself off, you keep skating (or whatever
your current goal may be.)
2. Don't quit what you start.
3. Good intentions must be followed. I had
a grand intention intention that Saturday I learned
to skate and broke my arm: "Take skating lessons
with your children so they will feel encouraged
and won't be embarrassed when they go to skating
parties and don't know how to skate."
A couple hours later I planned to go see the
movie Armageddon, which was then in the movie
theaters. I bent to pick up two-year-old Emma
to kiss her goodbye and as I lifted her it felt
like my arm was going to snap. "No worries" I
told myself and my husband. "I'm fine, just a
little pulled something or other."
We went to the movie. It was strange because
I enjoyed the movie, something I had not suspected
would happen, and secondly, I spent a good amount
of the movie excusing myself to go into the
restroom to attempt to move my arm.
The pain got worse as the movie went on and as
you may have guessed from my last sentence,
I could no longer move it.
Why am I interjecting this story into this essay
about writing what we are uncomfortable to write?
My first draft of this essay said this:
(FILL IN THE EXPLANATION< WHATEVER THE HELL IT TURNS OUT TO BE)
Now I say this, instead:
Sometimes we fall and it hurts and the only way
out is to go through the process of healing. I had
to go to the doctor. I had to wear a crazy, bright
pink cast for several weeks. Actually, I chose the
cast which became a great conversation piece.
I sang karaoke for the first time ever when I was
wearing that cast. I went to a business convention
wearing that cast which helped me realize even
more that I didn't fit in with the people I
was then working alongside.
If I ever expected to move my arm again well, I
needed to do what I needed to do: whatever the
doctor suggested.
I am a great believer in working through the stuff
that feels uncomfortable, otherwise it festers and
becomes a deformity, like my arm would have if
I didn't do something about it.
I took the nudging from the Creativity Ninja's blog and
wrote for three five minute stints on three topics
that make me uncomfortable.
I decided to make a list of topics and put them into a bowl.
I would draw from the bowl randomly to choose 3 topics.
The first discovery I made was my list of "uncomfortable
things to write about" was longer than I initially suspected.
The second thing is that once I started writing
stream-of-consciousness style, the a-ha's were
waiting for me to find them within the first
five minutes.
Here are some snippets of what I wrote, almost
unedited, for you to read:
Uncomfortable Topic #1:
I think the reason I don't follow through on some of
these things is I am petrified of creaking open
that door marked "Been there, done that, don't want
to disturb the spider webs or that rigged up bucket
which will rain hailstones of `ha, you thought
it was over but it isn't!' down on my head.
Will that happen again?
Will I screw up more?
I like to think I am wise enough not to screw up
again, but a part of me says it is never over, I
am destined to do nothing, to hand the lock and
keys over to these people who have frightened me.
The longer I leave these bits and pieces undone,
they hold the key to all this power of mine. That's
right, they hold the key to my power as long as I
make them to boogey men and women who live
underneath my bed, ready to grab my feet and
trip me when I wake up and start my day.
Isn't that more than a bit crazy?
YES! I tell myself. It is more than a bit crazy.
I sit at my desk this morning with Emma and Samuel
tucked into their respective schools and wonder,
"Why did I worry about that?"
The calendar ticks along and my choice gets knocked
off the shelf: It is August 22. No more choosing whether
or not they are going back to school today. There is no
choice. You get up, you get them ready, you drop them
off. No choice other than that is there.
I just put them into school and I instantly
forget about the relationship of fear in choicelessness.
What if I took away the choice to getting this
stuff done, once and for all?
I think that's it.
To actually CHOOSE to take away my CHOICE to do other wise.
Brilliant.
Uncomfortable Topic #2
Maybe if I allowed myself to be open to see
Uncomfortable #2 in a different way, from a
different perspective.
This morning I thought, "I need to fictionalize
these scenarios, to put them into stories, perhaps
that will help me see it from a different
perspective… one that makes it at least come to
an integrated conclusion rather than a brick wall
of "I hate myself for this!" over and over
and over again.
I think I have found a solution.
Fictionalize the wrongs along with some other
fictionalized stories, flash fiction style, on
the road to forgiving myself for what, til
now, I have considered unforgiveables.
Anything else for me to discover in the
next ten seconds?
This unforgiveable has been worth it.
I wouldn't want it another way.
Uncomfortable Topic #3
This is a question that makes me very uncomfortable.
I get caught in the tangled web of "how- to" and find
myself wishing for a fairy godmother instead of
dwelling in the reality of step- by- step –by- step
accomplishment.
I notice my stomach's rumbling.
How much do I really want to move?
Is the pain of moving worth the investment
worth the outcome?
I think it is. But I don't want to leave this house.
I think this requires and deserves attention.
I have dropped out of theater, almost, it seems.
I have stopped doing what requires I stay in one spot
so why do I stay here? With Emma attending EBHS I now have
committed myself to four more years. That reality
just landed in my gut. Oh, yeah, that.
What if I made a point by point plan to build myself
up to real financial independence before this four year
tenure is up and then really make a move out of here?
Find the best program for Samuel and move to it.
Best high school for Spectrum kids, spend Summers
there… and GO, Fall of 2015, GO.
That really is the best plan. That plus I need
to create a plan to find a different chair to
write in then this one. Wait, I can just go in
the other room and grab a different chair.
Problem solved.
~ ~ ~
Do you see the similarity in these three Uncomfortable
Topics and the "Learning How to Rollerskate and
Breaking My Arm" story?
What you don't know is the Saturday after I got
my cast off, I was back at the skating rink, taking
more lessons. My children were with me. After Samuel
was born, he took some lessons very early on as well.
I practiced and enjoyed myself and while I never got
to be a good skater, I could skate at parties and
not embarrass myself.
So could my children, which is the reason I do
most anything I do.
I do most everything because I love them
dearly. I love this world we share with all of you.
If this means I need to be uncomfortable, fall on my
ass, follow a process, wrestle the bad-guys, fall
again, dust myself off again, I will do it.
Because I love. I love well. And that is more than enough.
I am betting the same is true for you, too. You love. You
love, well. And that IS more than enough to get us up,
roller skating again. Make choices or not make choices again.
Revel in being miserably uncomfortable, wobbly or
squirmy. Write into it and about it.
And then, love some more. That is more than enough.
Julie Jordan Scott is a Writer, Life Coach, Poet,
Speaker, Actor, Director and Mom Extraordinaire
whose deepest passion is helping people -
like you - discover and live with passion.
~ ~ ~
Follow her on Twitter: @JulieJordanScot
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© 2011
Julie Jordan Scott
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