Trust Again

The garden has been whispering, luring me until finally two days ago, it demanded. I love playing in the dirt. This spring’s weather has made it difficult to get into the yard and the events of the last few weeks have prevented it. (if I listed all that has happened you’d think me Job) I’m so far behind, that I started letting all I had to get done stress me and affect my writing.

I had to take a minute, breath and really think about what I wanted from my life. I’ve been really struggling to do this and not let stress and my own obsessive compulsive behavior get the better of me.

My writing is going along so good. I’ve put several things in the mail. Yiipee! A solid improvement and good thing. I’ve been rewriting a ton of old stories that were nearly completed when I got sick. And better yet, writing new ones and getting that itch for diving into a novel. So, instead of seeing what isn’t done, I’m trying to see what I’ve accomplished.

The garden will do what it will do. I will get to it. Maybe not as soon as I usually do, or as well, but I will get to it. And it will look beautiful, too, no matter what. Because I have dependable, hardy perennials, shrubs and roses that are the backbone of my garden. I planned it that way. I need to trust I did right.

I find that trusting oneself is difficult. Sometimes, more than trusting others, but it is vital to the writing life. I think it is one of the things that has been hardest to get back, too. Somehow, when I got sick, it shook my trust in myself. I never had a hard time making decisions before. And as I’ve said before in this blog, I could no longer even decide whether to buy a new pair of jeans or get a kitten. I’ve always been pretty independent and quite frankly, I didn’t like this side of me. That vulnerable, weak, boo-hoo-someone-help-me side.

I was never a feminist, yet I wanted to do things that were not accepted as girl-appropriate at the time. I wanted to be a veterinarian before women were allowed in any veterinarian colleges, I wanted to be a drummer when no drummer I’d ever seen was female, let alone a guitarist. I wanted to drive a jeep when girls didn’t do that either. I was told no, can’t, shouldn’t too often. I didn’t like the way things were, I thought it was unfair. I mean, why were the things I was interested not allowed for a girl to do? I was a pretty feminine girl most times, but I did like animals, drummers, big, off-road cars. Still, I didn’t know you could fight it. I wouldn’t have thought of making a stink.

I’ve always been independent, broadminded and confident in my instincts. I’ve relied on them, always. In my life, in my writing. In fact, it was something I prided myself in. And for good reason. My instincts have served me well over the years. So, I must relearn to trust them again and I am.