Being Perfectly Imperfect

A couple of months ago I thought I was on a clear path towards claiming my life back.  Thought I’d successfully stepped out of history.  For the first time in years I had people in my life who accepted me and who could relate to me.  My blog was getting more and more traffic, I was writing every day, getting good strokes for my article writing, wrestling with a thriller film script and gathering ideas to write the novel, gathering ideas for a book on my experiences with bankruptcy and what I’d learned, playing piano, singing, recording my blogs.

My life was a happening place.  Next to the Paypal button I wrote “This blog is about overcoming obstacles and making dreams come true.  Mine are to establish myself as a script, novel and blog writer, and a vocalist, and to be financially independent again.  If you’d like to help me achieve my goals, a thousand thanks.  Click the Paypal button, and choose your own amount.  For more info, click here.”

That click would take people to the first time I gave myself permission to put Paypal on my blog.  After a year’s debate about it.  Nobody could accuse me of not deliberating before making decisions.  My blog had a purpose, at least in my eyes.

Right from the start I wanted it to illustrate one person’s journey in a real way from crisis in the material world to understanding that the real crisis was within, to dealing with it, to stepping out of it into a life lived differently, from a perspective of better emotional fluency, better understanding of my rights, and dealing with the world differently.   I wanted my journey with singing to reflect the same thing.  I decided to illustrate starting with the reality.  This is how I sing.  I hoped that it would get better with practice!

I hoped I was en route to some kind of success that would be meaningful to me.  In letting myself be completely honest with my starting place, I was really saying to myself “everybody has to start somewhere and it’s okay”.

Something derailed me from everything, and I can’t put my finger on it.  All I can say is that it feels as if I’ve totally lost my way.  My creativity is burned out, I’m not singing, not recording, not even writing my blog every day.  Haven’t touched my script in months.  The workload for the script-writing course is overwhelming.  It requires creativity and – I don’t have any.   It looks as if this journey I’ve taken for the past eight years has got absolutely nowhere.  I haven’t got a clue what the purpose of my life is.

The only thing that makes life have any sense at all is when I’m playing the piano.   Then the world, with all its challenges that I’m not particularly good at meeting, fades away.   Yesterday I was playing Bach and then Mozart, and I’m up to learning Grade VII music which I play pretty badly, but a year ago I was about a bad Grade IV, so I guess it’s progress.   When I’m playing I don’t think about success in the world, I couldn’t give a damn about it, I just have this intense sense of fulfillment at playing, even if it’s just scales and exercises.

I thought yesterday that at least I’ve broken down the most significant barrier in my life – that of learning how to learn on the piano.  It held me hostage until a couple of years ago.  All my life I wanted to play piano.  All my life I could only get so far and no further.  As my heart was singing and my fingers flying, my life kind of passed before me, and I wondered if this would be the only success I’d be able to achieve – that I broke the back of my learning problem with the one thing I was the most passionate about as a child.


4 thoughts on “Being Perfectly Imperfect

  1. Hi Jenn. I’m so sorry you fell like you’ve been derailed. I know I sometimes get the same feeling, without knowing why. I don’t think there’s anything abnormal about it, though.

    I’ve often wished I could learn to play a musical instrument. I’ve always been fascinated with the idea that my mind could think of some music and my fingers could make it happen, instantly. I have no idea what that must be like. I have a neighbor that learned to paly a guitar at age 43 and now three years later he’s in a band. I guess I could do that too, but I sure feel like too old of a dog to learn any new tricks like that. I admire you for learning the piano!

    • Hi Bruce, you said just the right thing – about it not being abnormal. The idea that if I just let it be, it will go away is very comforting. I love that story of your neighbor, you give me hope. Thanks.

  2. I so understand what you’re going through. (I think) I’ve come through a similar phase where I questioned what it was all about, and felt like I’d wasted a lot of valuable time without accomplishing anything. I felt like I’d lost my ‘happy place’ as I call it. It sounds to me, like you’ve found yours once again while playing the piano. So keep playing, and slowly you’ll come back to the writing (which you’re marvelous at) and things will click for you once again. You’re too close to it to see it Jennifer, but those of us who ‘read’ you, can see your success very clearly.

    • It’s so nice to see you here, Brianna. Thanks for what you said, it was really good to read. Maybe I can let go and trust that it will come back, as you say, and that everything will make sense again.

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