I am not a-mused

I used to blog every day, or at least Monday through Friday. It was how I started my day, and the hours that followed were better for it. That creative jumpstart made me sharper, more expressive, and more aware for the rest of the day. I thrived on it and I didn’t care who read my words. The exercise was for me.

Then I lost my muse.

Well, that’s what I used to say. The truth is, I gave her up. I relinquished my outlet to forces I thought were beyond my control. I’m hoping that writing about it will be cathartic, that my muse will see I’m ready to take her back.

You see, I entered into a relationship that ultimately proved to be unhealthy for me. It felt wonderful at first, all sun and stars and rainbows and all that. I dove in headfirst, hungry for attention and desperate to love someone. It didn’t take long for cracks to appear, though I initially brushed them off as something we could fix later. No relationship is perfect right?

I started to feel watched. Everything I said and did was analyzed for hidden meaning, and this included my writing. Even though I often change the details of situations I recount so I won’t betray a confidence or hurt someone close to me—after all, this blog is mostly about finding meaning in the everyday situations around us, not the situations themselves—I underwent a level of scrutiny about who-what-when-where-why that eventually made me cower. My blog posts were only the start.

Instead of standing up for myself, I backed off. I thought it would make my life easier, but it didn’t, of course. It fanned the flame of presumption, like an implicit admission of guilt. It gave power to him and set a precedent of behavior: push me, make me unhappy, and I’ll back off to ease the pressure. Standing up for myself became too much work; it was easier to give in. I lost touch with friends, I performed poorly at work, I stopped being present. I became focused on keeping my day-to-day situation on an even keel, at the expense of everything else. Is it any surprise I couldn’t make the words flow anymore?

I almost—ALMOST—let someone take away the most important parts of my psyche just so I could fit into his idea of what I was supposed to be. I almost gave away my identity.

Thankfully, I realized I had to remain true to myself. I didn’t need or want to change who I am, so I left the relationship. (In case you’re wondering if he ever hurt me physically, the answer is a resounding NO.) As I look back, I realize I’ve learned some important lessons.

First and foremost, it’s way too easy to judge women who find/put themselves in situations in which YOU think they should leave but they don’t. Look, I had means (house, car, job, savings account), a supportive family and group of friends, and a strong will—and I still stayed. I consider myself enlightened and independent—and I still stayed. I would call BS on my friends or my daughter if they were in the same situation—and I still stayed. So many women don’t have all these things going for them, and we judge them. I would never stand for that, we say. Who knows? Maybe you would. I did—for a while. You don’t know what it’s like until you’re in it.

Second, I GAVE parts of myself away, thinking I would appease. I guess I assumed I’d reclaim them at some point, but that’s not how it works. I’ve learned which pieces are fundamental to my being; these are my SOUL. Now I guard them fiercely. The right person will cherish them, too.

Finally, I keep learning the lesson of forgiveness. For him, certainly, but also for me. I’m learning to let go of the choices I made and to accept responsibility for my part. I’m learning to adopt a live-and-learn posture and embrace the lessons that come with it.

I’m desperate to write again regularly. I have a log jam of words in my head and I need the relief of letting them flow. I want my blog back. I want to turn the threads of books I’ve hastily scrawled into the Notes app on my phone into actual chapters. I want to reclaim this part of myself.

This post, this long overdue admission, serves as a formal invitation for my muse to return:

Please come back. You are finally welcome here again.

What have you done for me lately?

superbowl nolaI’ll admit it. I sucked on a few sour grapes watching yesterday’s Super Bowl Duper pre-game coverage. Listening to the commentary, anyone would think New Orleans is the best host city for the Super Bowl Game ever.

Pardon my personal bias, but I thought Indianapolis did a super fine job last year. The city put on a brilliant display of hospitality, and the festivities wowed visitors and residents alike. It was a terrific celebration. In fact, all the commentators said so. Just the way they said…so…this…year… Oh. I get it.

Besides the fact that it’s the commentators’ job to talk up the host city on national TV, Indy was last year. It’s over, and the world has moved on. And you know what? That’s exactly what it should have done.

Years ago, I knew a CEO who gathered his company’s employees together to report results after the close of each fiscal year. Year after year, the company broke records for both revenue and profit. You’d think the meeting would be one of celebration, but after giving hearty congratulations and expressing his gratitude, the CEO developed amnesia. That was yesterday, he’d say. What are you going to do for us today? Tomorrow?

We can’t bask in the glow of the past for too long, or we won’t move forward. Instead of looking behind, we need to look ahead. What goals are in front of us? What do we need to do to accomplish them? How can we do it (even) better next time?

Kudos to NOLA for putting on a super party this year, game time power outage notwithstanding. (Okay, that prompted a little Schadenfreude on my part.) There really is no other city that screams Party on! like the Big Easy. But twelve months from now the Big Apple will be the greatest city to host the Big Game.

Until the next one.