Feeling uninspired. No, unhappy, kind of sore. My voice just won’t work. I did my exercises and singing, but my throat is tight, and I think I just want to curl up and cry. That vocalist’s unenthusiastic, unwelcoming attitude got to me yesterday, as did the comment about not having the right focus to achieve my dreams. It rubber-banded me back to that old space of when I was a little girl, feeling completely and utterly worthless.
I’ve been trying to talk and laugh myself out of it, but that never works. When something hurts it hurts, you have to pay attention. If you don’t then everything else gets too big and all decisions seem wrong. Life seems impossible. The belief that shone very brightly in your heart only a few days ago seems blighted. Hope? You’ve forgotten what it means.
Intellectually I know that what others think, and whatever’s happening in their day that makes them slam the door in my face, have nothing to do with me and don’t define my life or its direction at all. But that doesn’t actually help at all. I need an emotional response, not an intellectual one. I want somebody to hold me and say I’ll stand next to you in this journey, because I want to, because I like you, I love you. I won’t let you be hurt again. I won’t leave you abandoned.
Now I’m crying. This old space that has been triggered is so sore; doors slamming in my face, getting laughed at, rejected, being left out, trying to keep hope alive, trying so hard to figure out a way, not giving up, but where the fuck is the light switch, it’s dark in here.
I don’t want a light switch, I don’t want intellectual inspiration and head stuff motivational bullshit. I want a person.
This painful place of being completely worthless and undeserving is why I stopped singing when I was young. Every time I re-engage and let myself really take it seriously, this old stuff comes up. It’s so bloody sore. There’s no way round it, not if I want to sing with emotion, from my heart. Not if I really want to have my life. Because there’s still a part of me that doesn’t know: am I enough to be loved? Everything else comes from there. The only thing that lets you know it is when somebody responds to you emotionally.
In this space, the hardest thing is to take the risk of asking, but I have to. Have to do it differently to the way I did it back then. Have to experience a different outcome. So I’m going to make that phone call and take the risk, ask somebody in real time. Do you love me? Can’t stop crying, my heart feels like it’s breaking. Small child stuff. I want love, not advice. Yes, Jennifer, I love you.
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