It would be bad to miss my flight to NYC for the BlogHer’12 conference, right? So, why am I sitting here breathing into a paper bag waiting for the iron to heat up so I can iron yet another shirt because the first 5 I tried just didn’t feel right?
The last time I used the iron I lived in Texas and it was 1995.
I just left a voicemail for my therapist, who is no stranger to conferences, but I haven’t heard back from him. I just want some sage, last-minute advice. Jerk. I can’t believe after all I have done for him he has the gall to have other patients. What ever happened to loyalty?
Anyway, we’ve been working all summer on my corrosive competitiveness, which tends to sap the joy out of my life. I was hoping to rid myself of my need to compete and be the best BEFORE boarding the plane to BlogHer because, let’s face it, I am just another Bozo on the blogging bus. And I want to go and connect and learn how to blog better and GOOD LORD, would it kill me to ever post a good graphic? Thing is, I used to approach everything with a maniacal drive to be the very best or die trying.
But, I decided 3 weeks ago that I needed a new motivation, and my new motivation for writing is to heal. So, instead of trying to be popular or get lots of comments or go viral, I have written to heal parts of myself– big wounds and small. It’s changed me a lot, but now….Now I am headed to a conference without the greatest armor I have ever known: TRYING TO BE THE BEST and win the race.
I don’t recognize myself. There’s a huge void where that drive used to be. I don’t know who I am or how to approach anyone or anything.
Turns out, a summer is not nearly long enough to shed a lifelong way of being and relating to the world.
But, the flight is leaving with or without me and all my baggage. And while I am lighter without dragging around this need to constantly prove my worth by being the greatest effing thing of all time, this lightness feels a little unbearable.