Reverb 10 – Day 5
Let Go. What (or whom) did you let go of this year? Why?
Before I get into today’s prompt, a confession: while I’m really into this Reverb 10 process, I notice that I’m taking a lot of time on the prompts; yesterday I rushed through a shower and out the door (forgetting the lunch I’d packed) because I spent 45 minutes writing about wonder (really? oy). I’ve been feeling this pressure to “get caught up” (day 10′s prompt arrived this morning, and i just finished day 4 yesterday…) and also feeling pressure (my own, of course) to be deep and thoughtful and blahblah; not the whole point of the whole thing, methinks. I want to give the process time, yet I don’t want to go into my perfectionistic need/desire to find the best and most fabulous words to release into blog-land.
So I’ve decided I’m going to do what I do with The Writer Babes: I’ll sit with the prompt for a moment, breathe it in, and write for 15 – 20 minutes. That’s it. If I want to add photos or links, fine. That’ll come after the writing. So … there it is, my plan for the remainder of Reverb 10.
And I guess that’s actually a good segway to the actual prompt:
I let go of having to do it “right.” Whatever it is: Reverb 10. Blogging. Life.
OK, so not really. Not entirely. What’s really true is that I let go of these things over and over and over again: variations on a theme of letting go. Some are easier than others.
I let go of having to know what my work with The Writer Babes/my writing workshops, etc. was going to look like – and how I would do it – as a possible full-time thing again before I re-embraced wanting it. (and i really do want it) (semi-related: a shout out to the “patron saint” of the writer babes, the fabulous ms. kathy smyly miller who sat next to me one night two months ago with our lap-tops open while she got me back up and running with a website after 2 years in dot-com nowheresville.)
I let go of lots of STUFF. I’m not one of those scary people you see on the hoarder TV shows, but historically, I’ve had a really hard time letting go of things that might still be useful. Even if they’re no longer useful to me. When I’ve considered tossing out books I know I’ll never read again, I’d think: but these are perfectly good books – someone might want them – so I’d put them in a box, thinking I’d take them to a library or something, and after a week or so of tripping over them, they’d wind up down in the basement. Same thing with old blankets and towels and mugs and leftover containers and eye-shadows and lipsticks that I bought but found I hated the colors when I got home. Some of this stuff found homes with friends who had use for it (i set up a sort of “garage sale” in my dining room for a few weeks and would encourage folks to pick through the stuff when they’d come to visit), but whatever wasn’t claimed a week before my move went into recycling or the trash. Gone-a-netta. I let them go. (and i still have too much stuff)
I also let go of boxes and boxes of my mother’s clothes. I hung onto them after she died, even though I knew I’d never wear them. We had pretty different styles and even at my thinnest, I wouldn’t wear a lot of her things. But I liked having them. And then one day I didn’t. One day the boxes started to feel like clutter. I had a great time great going through them – getting a kick out of my mothers love of earth tones … amazed by number of tan and brown sweaters she had – and making piles to give away. I’m happy knowing that people I love are now walking around – and appreciating – the pieces I let go. And I love that they know where they came from too. That makes me smile way more than those boxes cluttering up my basement did.
I let go of flogging myself for losing ground in my fitness trajectory.
I let go of comparing my stop-start work as a solo-preneur with others who I “came up with” and who are way more successful than I am now. (i have to re-let go on this one a lot.)
And now I’m going to let go of feeling like I have to find some cute little way to tie up this musing since it’s closing in on 20 minutes.
(then again …)