Life in Storage

Among the many gifts bestowed upon me by The Four Day Win by Martha Beck, PhD., my favorite has got to be talking to my inner child/right brain* through a writing exercise. In the exercise, after visualizing yourself as a child, you write down (with your dominant writing hand) a question for her, and with your nondominant hand, you write down her answer. There’s a lot of anger and profanity at first, (reminiscent of “automatic writing”, huh?), but after that dies down, there are some kernels of truth.

For me, the hardest kernel was this accusation: You put your life in storage.

That still drops me. I mean, hit me in the face and call it sunshine, that’s a freaking epiphany.

I really did put my life in storage. We all do. When we have a talent, or a gift, and we say to ourselves, “I’ll just put this away until ____ and then I’ll use it again,” or “I want to _____, but I’ll do it later,” or even “I’ll be happy when _____” what is all that but putting our talents in storage? For me, I always said, “I’ll live like they want me to until the kids are grown, and then I’ll pursue my dreams.” In fact, it started even earlier, when I wanted to be a writer but didn’t think I could support myself that way (circa second grade. Um, Mom and Dad? Not to point fingers or anything, but how does a second-grader get to evaluating her financial solvency in potential careers?).

Even rebellion is, in most cases, just putting our lives in storage. When we consciously rebel, we are often doing the exact opposite of what someone wants us to do, and specifically not doing what we want/need to do (I know there are exceptions, but think teenagers). The person with the expectation is still the one in control, not us. And we’re over there like, “Until they let me do what I want, I’ll show them.” But who’s got the power?

No, the person over there quietly doing what he/she wants to do without the theatrics is the one who is actually living.

So there we have it. Through youthful rebellion, to not-so-youthful “accepting responsibility” via cowing to the expectations of an abusive ex-, well-meaning family and friends, and society at large, and through the second stage of rebellion (from ex-), I put my life in storage.

I don’t know yet how much permanent harm was done. I do know that my life is a little dusty, but still seems to be there. There is hope that a good wash and a few coats of paint will liven it right up again.

There is hope.

*I will not be addressing the whole left brain/right brain debate. New information comes to light back and forth, including a recent (Nov ‘11, Dec ‘11, Jan ‘12?) edition of Scientific American I just read. You know what I mean by “right brain”, so work with me)