Tag: inspiration

Anti-Anxiety

I have known for a while now that I have high anxiety. A couple of years ago I mentioned it to my doctor. She prescribed some medicine and we scheduled a follow up appointment for a couple weeks later to check in on how it was working. I never took the medicine. I convinced myself that the timing wasn’t right. And that the side effects would make me tired, and perhaps hinder my work performance. When the follow up appointment came, I (somewhat) jokingly asked if there was an anti-anxiety medicine for people who were too anxious to take anti-anxiety medicines. The joke didn’t land and we sat in silence for a couple of seconds.

Lately, I’ve been a bit more observant of the anxiety triggers. And there are many. Something as mundane as getting gas. Insert your card, keep card inserted, REMOVE CARD RAPIDLY!!! Gets me every time. And if I happen to pull up to a pump which has both gas and diesel….My god. What a roller coaster that is.

My oldest son is also anxious. I worry that I have projected that onto him. He’s only 4 and seems to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders at times. A few weeks ago we went to a party with other families. We were all playing outside and a little girl asked my son to get in a wagon. I, needlessly frantic, spoke up and said “oh no! Hold on, Hold on! Let me make sure its not wet in there first!” I approached the wagon and this 6 year old girl, looked up at me, and with the most unrestrained, rational and impulsive voice said “it’s ok…”

And it was ok. Even if it was wet. It was ok. Even if he got covered in mud. It was ok. All of it, whatever happened with that wagon, everything would’ve been ok.

A six year old inadvertently changed my thought process. She put my parenting into perspective. She made me pause, breath, evaluate. And I haven’t stopped thinking about it since. I’m going to buy her a pony.

When is an appropriate time to call yourself a writer?

Hi, my name is Darci and I’m a ___

When someone asks what you do, what do you say? Your profession, I assume. But, what if your chosen profession doesn’t entirely encompass ALL that you do?

I love my dayjob. At this point, I am quite content in saying that it is my career. Can I be two things? Can I be a Client Service Associate for a wonderful company in the Wealth Management industry and a writer? If that is in fact, what I am; A writer. Of course! But when is it prudent to declare it?

Where does the title of writer, or blogger, or whatever you love doing come into play? Is that reserved for only when someone asks you about your hobbies?

Do you get to lay claim to the title of your choosing when you make money from it? I suspect that most people would say that seems like an appropriate time. But, if that’s the case then does the $.37 I’ve made from advertisements on this blog count? Probably not….

So where does that leave me. Little, old, self-centered me. I’m not selling anything. My following, while they are some of the most lovely people I’ve never met, is moderate, at best. I have no discernible talent or skill I can offer to anyone as a training tool. I am nothing short of me. Someone who enjoys writing, sharing stories, and of course, blogging. This is what I do, for now. And for some weird, inexplicable reason; I want people to know I do it. It gives me a sense of pride and accomplishment. And more than anything, I love it.

I know that nobody has the answers for the questions above. It is a personal decision. It’s whatever I feel comfortable with. And maybe what this all boils down to – Being uncomfortable. And I’m uncomfortable because I doubt myself. I doubt that what I do justifies me proclaiming myself to be a blogger. Or a writer, or whatever it is that I am. I have doubts in my ability. Doubt in my tenacity to do or be something better. Doubt will eat you alive if you let it. It will keep you from being who you are, or who you’re meant to become. But most importantly, it will keep you from achieving your goals. And I for one, resolve to not let that happen. So.

Hi, my name is Darci and I write a blog.

The Ebb and Flow of Blogging

I can not possibly write one more post about not knowing what to write. I can’t. I mustn’t. But the words keep coming. And this post keeps taking it’s inevitable shape.

Then comes the wishful thinking: Will this be the start of a blogging spree? Will this post send me into a frenzy of creative inspiration, the likes of which my little page has yet to see? With these questions; a glimmer of hope.

Writing to write, they say, is one of the best ways to combat the blank head space that can happen in the world of creative writing. Start with a sentence. Just one. And it will take off. That’s what they say anyway…

Creatively speaking, I’ve been riding the coattails of my last post. It was a personal one about the loss of a loved one. I posted it to my Facebook page and was shared by many who knew my step-father. It was heartfelt and honest. And well-received. That was published 29 days ago…. 29 days without post.

Normally, I’d wait for inspiration to strike. That’s my favorite way to write. Feverishly. But today, I HAD to write something. Anything will do. Do you ever have that feeling? In your writing – do you ever feel like you MUST put something down, for your own….I don’t know.. mental health? I don’t know if thats it really. I don’t know what to call it. Do you?

But I feel like something different is afoot. For the first time, maybe ever, it’s not so much about views or likes. This post is purely for the sake of doing something creative. So, I am just going to send it out into the WordPress universe. And I hope that my dear friend, the spark, finds her way home to me. Wish me luck.

It’s a fine line between fearlessness and belligerence.

 

I remember a few years ago I read an article that talked about an art gallery opening.  The layout of the event was set up like a person’s house. With several different rooms, all with different types of artwork in them. One of the spectators arrived via skateboard, and instead of carrying it around with him, left it leaning against one of the hallway walls close to the entrance.  Everyone that arrived after him, stopped to photograph his skateboard.  They all perceived it as a work of art.

When it comes to art, I am a novice at best.  I know nothing about it. But there seems to be a lot of it.  And it’s got me thinking… Who has to perceive something as art for it TO BE art? And better yet: Who has to perceive you as something for it to be true and does it matter?

When I first read about the Fearless Girl statue.  I was immediately drawn to her.  I read every story I could find that mentioned anything about her.  I don’t consider myself a feminist necessarily, or an art connoisseur by any means, but everything about this bold, brazen sculpture spoke to me.  The artist was able to make this statue convey gumption in the most subtle yet unequivocal way.

There is a lot of controversy surrounding this pony-tailed, little girl. Specifically, how she was placed in relation to the iconic Charging Bull.  The male artist who created the seven thousand pound symbol of American power and resilience pitched quite the fit about the girl. Stating that the female artist who made this tiny, in comparison, 250-pound Fearless Girl statue had “altered the perception of the bull” because of where and how she was placed.  Facing the bull.  He isn’t entirely wrong. The statue had accomplished everything the artist had set out to do. Everything about Fearless Girl was very intentional.  The artist said, “I made sure to keep her features soft, she’s not defiant, she’s brave, proud and strong, not belligerent”. And I think the artist was able to perfectly emulate that.

I’ve been thinking about how I’m perceived a lot lately.  If people’s perceptions of me and even my own are an actuality. Everyone wants to see themselves in a favorable light, but is that the truth?  I haven’t been reaching my potential professionally.  And while some of the fault undoubtedly rests on my shoulders, I believe it is also a product of my environment.

I’ve decided it’s time for a career change.  I don’t fit in in the wealth management industry. I am not naturally meek or mild, but this position has forced me to be both in some instances.  I don’t like it. It makes me uncomfortable. I feel unsure almost every day. In most of the things I do. Except when I’m talking to clients. That’s when I’m at home. I’m confident that whatever they need, I can help them. If I don’t know the answer, I’ll put on my Nancy Drew hat and work tirelessly until I find it and report back. I’ll conquer the unknown happily and fearlessly. Because I know that when I do, the client will be thankful. I will have helped them accomplish something they couldn’t have done on their own.  And that is a great feeling.

One of the things I miss the most in my current position is being part of a team.  I guess technically, I am.  But Just because someone says “you’re apart of the team!” doesn’t make it so. That means they may think of you as that, but if no actions are there to support this thought, then does it matter how they perceive it? Shouldn’t how I feel carry some weight?  Whose perception is correct?

Over the last couple months, I’ve had several interviews.  And recently, I have had 2 men, in a hiring position, tell me that I “seem like I can be a bitch when necessary”.  They aren’t wrong, I guess.  I like to get shit done.  But, I didn’t love how the word “bitch” hit my ear.  One person immediately felt bad and said: “I mean that as a compliment”.  And that’s how I had taken it.   I think that’s how some people perceive being strong and taking charge.  When and how people use that word can and do have different connotations.  Whether that’s right or wrong, well, I guess it depends on the perceiver…

I have been offered an amazing position.  One that I am so excited about it gives me chills. It’s at a fantastic company run by an incredible group of successful, intelligent women. I didn’t know if I was going to get it honestly.  The interview process was intense.  And I don’t know if I was necessarily the best candidate on paper. But as it would turn out, after 5 meetings, and hours of some of the most self-reflective questions I have ever been asked, they chose me.  And I know that I won’t have to be meek or mild. I won’t have to feel like an outsider.  I’m going to be a part of a team. Like, for real this time. I can be confident, tough, determined.  All of the things that The Fearless Girl and I were meant to be.

Mayor Bill de Blasio and Manhattan Borough President Gale Brewer visit the Fearless Girl statue in Lower Manhattan after the permit for the beloved statue will be extended through next year on Monday, March 27, 2017. Michael Appleton/Mayoral Photography O

Survivng Succulents

 

I have this terrible habit of getting excited about something like a project, starting it and never finishing it.  Like wanting to start an indoor succulent garden for example.  I bought the plants, the special dirt, pots.  The whole shebang. I put them in the garage with the intent of planting and caring for them.  But, there they sit.  Dead.

I believe this is one of my greatest faults.  I know it drives my husband absolutely crazy. I’ll have, what I consider to be, a great idea.  Convince my husband that it’s a great idea. Start the project.  And that is generally where the story ends.  He is always very supportive, god love him.  But I think that maybe he is kinda over it at this point.

I’ve mentioned this new blogging venture to him a few times expecting some sort of response.  I’ve got nothing in return.  Barely a nod of the head.  I worry that I’ve used up all my “great idea” chips.  So now, this blog not only has become a creative outlet but a “finish what I start” challenge.  But that’s the thing about blogs.  There is no such thing as a finish line.  It can go on forever!  It’s a little daunting, let me tell ya.

For the other bloggers out there, do you remember when you got your first like? or follower?  Man oh man, it was the biggest adrenaline rush I’ve had in a long time. It feels so validating and gratifying.  To have proof that someone somewhere has read what you’ve written.  It’s such a motivator.  I literally couldn’t even guess how man times a day I look at my stats.  Too much, I’m sure.  That amazing little “stats” button is what is going to get me through the days where I think “Nah, I don’t need to do a blog post today, or this week, or month”.  So here’s another post, with many many more to come.

Tell my husband.  Darci says “I’m all in!”

And don’t forget…  I’m also just a girl, writing a blog, asking for you to love her…. posts.

Follow The Yellow Brick Road

It’s been a month.  One month today since the accident.

When I got the call that my brother had been in an accident.  I immediately left for the hospital.   It was the simultaneously the slowest and quickest drive there has ever been.  I arrived, and found my way to the ICU floor.  I was met by 2 nurses, later they said they knew who I was by the look on my face.  They sat me down and explained the situation.  It was bad, labeled as critical and life flight was used.  I excused myself and waited for other family members to arrive.  Later on, while at the ICU door waiting to get buzzed in, someone came up next to me.  They had a loved one that had been in the ICU for a few days.  I was looking down at the floor and then I heard them say “The floor here reminds me of the yellow brick road.  Ya know, from the ‘Wizard of Oz?'” That’s my favorite movie.  From that moment on, I thought about the similarities between the movie and the situation that we were in.

I was the Scarecrow.  Asking for a brain to figure everything out.  Trying to learn the medical terms, which monitors meant what, blood pressures, oxygenation, medications.

I was the Lion. Asking for courage.  Courage to be strong when others couldn’t be.  Courage to help my brother with the unknown.  Courage to believe that everything is going to be just fine.

I was not the Tin Man. My favorite quote from the movie is “hearts will never be practical until they can be made unbreakable”  My heart has felt more this past month than perhaps my whole life combined.  It has been broken, mended,  but mostly filled will love and gratitude.

And then there’s my brother, J.J..  Unfortunately for him, he is a girl in this analogy.  He’s Dorothy.  Wanting desperately to find his way home.  He’ll be there soon.

“You’ve always had the power my dear, you just had to learn it for yourself”

First day jitters

Today is my first day blogging.

What to write about first?

Maine, moving, changing jobs, getting married, fertility issues, becoming a caregiver, family dynamics, finances.  All seem to be hot topics at the forefront of my mind right now.  Maybe that’s why I’m feeling claustrophobic?  My brain feels cluttered and sorting through each one of the items listed above is overwhelming.  As I type this and think about what to write it is becoming clearer that this is exactly what I need.  An outlet, whether it be creative or more diary-esq.  I’m feeling excited now, excited to work through these thoughts.