I have finally run out of excuses. So many ideas, yet what to show for myself? Some drawings and paintings scattered around my home. Choppy, unfinished lyrics to accompany lonely parts of melodies. Half-assed attempts to put myself out there, still held back by questioning who would want to buy my work or read my words.
Finally I have reached a point of not caring who out in this huge, undoubtedly disjointed yet deeply connected modern world receives what I have to say. Not to imply that I don’t care about who I may connect with. Rather, what I am getting at is letting go of any remaining worries about judgement or being received in a certain way. I am getting at shedding my skin and becoming so naked that I don’t care who sees, or for how long. I can be no more vulnerable than my naked body, naked mind, naked heart. I have come to understand that it is all I truly have to offer anyway.
And so, all of this to say that I have finally arrived. Arrived in this moment, finally writing these words. Finally ready to purge. Years in the making. Working on myself and healing and figuring myself out. All leading up to the moment of putting my unadulterated self on display. Take it or leave it.
They say that starting is the hardest part, so my hope is that it will only get easier from here. Though, secretly and in a masochistic vein, part of me hopes that it doesn’t. This part of me knows that I need to meet the challenge of sitting in these uncomfortable moments. I vow to meet these moments with a whole heart, to show up no matter what. If telling my story means waking up in the dead of night to climb to the top of a mountain, may I show up and collect all the scratches and wounds and scars that go into creating the final product.
And who knows, maybe what I will realize is that my true purpose is to start my own small business to create the hit new ego-cleansing product: Excuses-B-Gone.
Here goes nothing.