Waking up

Datura, ready to unfurl

A year ago I left my job at The Pub and, after our road trip, came home to find a job that would be enough. I had a good amount of money saved in Unemployment and I resolved to use it, giving myself a year to get by and avoid the pressure to figure out what I want to be when I grow up.

I spent a year feeling like someone else. Someone who didn't know quite what to do in this skin. Someone who would wake up in the middle of the night and think, "What the hell is happening?"

That year is over.  
My Unemployment insurance ran out.

Time to wake up, folks.

In perfect concert with the way things usually work for us, options started to reveal themselves. My cousin asked me to do some work for her, which I gratefully accepted. Another family member had use of my skills, so I took that on. I started to write again, just a little. 

Then, while chatting with a friend, I suddenly felt prompted to ask questions about his work. Before I knew what was happening, we were designing a new program at his school, one that would pair artist, movers, and makers with educators to provide meaningful enrichment to elementary students. Shortly after that, I got an offer to run the program. It wasn't hard to say yes.

For now, the job is part time while we work out how to fund it. And honestly, that's perfect; it means I can still attend to family and the artistic part of me that's been sleeping. I can figure out how to be in this skin, at this moment in time, authentically.

When I asked my life to give me back a sense of self, it answered. Right now, at this very moment, I'm sitting in an airport terminal, waiting to fly to Halifax.  I get to go create art with Kate Inglis and a Shed full of other artist. No really, that Kate. I feel like a child meeting her favorite princess at Disneyland. It's that good. And Kate and I have met before, but going to her home on the edge of the Atlantic feels like magic. 

2014 may have kicked my ass, but it's starting to feel like the year of undoing, so that I can become more myself. There's a saying, "Just when the caterpillar thought the world was over, it became a butterfly." It's just too much to call myself a butterfly (I mean, really, who does that?) but the idea of metamorphosis - of breaking down to become something new - that's what I'm feeling. At least, that's the perspective I have to take. I can't change what happened in 2014 and the year of aftermath, but I can search for meaning of my own and nudge myself to wake up now. 

Dude, like my wings?