I feel like I'm living in the middle of a tornado

Allow me to explain my melodramatic analogy -- I feel very spun around and dizzy and like I'm in the middle of something noisy and unrelenting.

I am shrinking again. As of Saturday, I was back down to 125 pounds again. And that was before all the physical activity of moving on Sunday, so I think it's possible I'm even smaller now. This is not good. I am aware of that. I am working on it. (So, please keep comments to yourselves.)

I'm still trying to process A LOT of stuff from the last several days.

Thursday night, I spoke to my friend Daniel. I always describe Daniel as my biggest cheerleader. He is. He's also one of the most gentle and loving people I've ever met. I use these five words to describe him: beautiful, creative, inspiring, supportive, radiant.

We were talking on Thursday, because we are trying to help each other overcome some of our fears so that they will no longer stand in the way of each of us writing. He'd said he was going to make a list of all the things he was afraid of in preparation for our call. I did the same. While I was thinking about all the things that scare me -- and it's an insanely long list -- the Sarah McLachlan song "Fear" was playing in my head. The chorus: "But I fear / I have nothing to give / I have so much to lose."

And I started thinking, "What do I have to lose?"

The truth: Nothing.

I risk rejection. Potentially some loss of stability, but that's REALLY pushing it. Rejection is the biggest thing. (And, I've survived rejection before. I survive it all the time, in fact.)

I have nothing to lose.

Daniel talked about having a "concrete hat" -- this helmet that just weighs you down with all the insecurities and voices saying you're not good enough and ruminations on failure. I could totally relate to that.

The more he talked about how much he could weigh himself down, the more astounded I was. Here is this guy who is my hero because he's so full of kindness and light and seemingly so unafraid of throwing himself out into the big, scary world in order to pursue the things that bring him joy and all the while his inner voices are telling him he doesn't measure up. And, his voices are identical to mine.

Screw the voices.

I have nothing to lose.

I'm going to at least try to get this concrete hat off my head for good.

Goethe said, “Whatever you do, or dream you can, begin it. Boldness has genius and power and magic in it.”

And I realize, that's the key. It's about doing it. Just doing it. You can't expect life to come to you. You can't just sit on the sidelines hoping and wishing and trying to be a good person and believing that that's enough to make good things happen for you. Oh, be a good person, but also go out there and CHASE DOWN JOY. (How many times do I have to learn the same lessons?)

Friday night, I met some friends for dinner and then we went to see Dennis Lehane read. Dennis was my mentor for one semester during my MFA, and he led many of my workshops. The man is a brilliant teacher. Really -- I think he taught me more than any other instructor I've ever had. Just being in a room listening to him talk about writing made my brain start to explode. (Maybe because it was already near exploding because of the conversation with Daniel the night before, but maybe because it would have exploded just listening to Dennis.) Turned out, almost my entire old writing group was at the reading. Afterward, we went out for drinks. Just being in that company again made me itch to write.

By Saturday, my two-week-long-cold-from-hell had finally subsided. This was good, because we had a bout. In the downtime waiting for things to start, Evil handed me a program. She said there were some new pages this time around. As I flipped through, I saw the letters "DFTBA." Then I looked up and saw that the message was to "GK." It was a message commemorating the second anniversary of Rehab asking me to be her derby wife. (And, as unlike me as it is, it's also the second time I've forgotten our anniversary....) I may forget our anniversary, but I will try very hard to remember to be awesome.

Sunday was moving day. It looked like it was going to rain any second. Thundershowers had been predicted. Jamie, Kate, and I wrestled my insanely (and I mean that) heavy double rocker/recliner down the stairs of my old apartment, into Jamie's sister's truck, and then up the stairs in the new apartment. Magic happened. There is not other explanation for how that couch made it into the new living room. Jamie, Kate, Penny, and I moved all the big, heavy stuff. I still have a few trips to make to the old apartment before I'm completely moved out and ready to clean it all. I have so many bruises all over my body, it looks like I survived some kind of horrible accident. But it didn't even rain until today.

Here I sit in the new apartment, in the almost fully set up "office" where I will be writing. Being in a new space surrounded by the things that inspire me most feels good. Sitting down and doing the writing is still incredibly intimidating.

But, I have nothing to lose and everything to gain.