“You must give up the life you planned…to have the life that is waiting for you.” Joseph Campbell
There is a first for everything! This a day of firsts, my 1st blog, post and day of my personal transformation journey to the creative life of writing. The one thing I have planned all on my own. When I was born my father decided that he would plan my life. Don’t get me wrong I adored my parents and brother. He was a successful arranger and composer and yes he wrote a song for me and recorded it on one of his albums which I think was a blessing. But just like the song, he also orchestrated my life. He wanted me to be a doctor, anything that had absolutely nothing to do with creativity in a writing/airy fairy sense. I was terrified of losing his love and that he would abandon me. Now mind you I was only 5 years old! That would have been a fate worse than death. It was bad enough that I was living in the ’60’s and a multi-racial family in Los Angeles. We were a nuclear family of 4 — you know – Dad, Mom, brother and me. The only way to get around was by car so I was pretty much dependent on my dad to get us around, to school, to his rehearsals (that I would go with him when I was 11) and you know the store, etc.
I grew suspicious of course when my birthday and Christmas presents were the “Invisible Woman, Invisible Man, ear and eye” models and clothes. One Christmas I got a microscope and much to my mother’s dismay, I dug up the dirt in the backyard for specimens and would bring them into the kitchen. No dolls except for “Barbie” with clothes, house and car and “Ken” of course which on a trip back to New York to visit my grandparents, we stopped in Chicago to visit friends of my parents their daughter decided to take it knowing that we were leaving at 4 am to drive the rest of the way to New York. I didn’t realize it until Pennsylvania. I was heartbroken. I decided I didn’t want a replacement.
In order to survive I would hide out in my room which became my sanctuary to write in my journal, draw, watch old movies on my black and white tv and listen to folk music on my Micky Mouse record player that my parents gave me. I was sheltered from virtually everything outside our home. Looking back, I lived my life on autopilot not trusting my instincts or following my heart. I was a child, but it lasted most of my adult life. This really all changed when I was diagnosed with Breast Cancer in 2000. I began to see things a different way. I realized I was still trapped and blinded by the past and still hearing those old tapes that I will call the” itty bitty poseur committee” (“ibpc”) for short that have blocked and caused me to get in my own way. I will wake up from the sleep walk and become aware and present. Because now I have found my voice and love to write. Happy Mayday! What a wonderful way to launch my new life….