I want to vomit and cry, and that's so awesome!

Whenever I take a big risk in life, I feel the lilt of nausea rise from within. Times like spending the month’s rent on purchasing my first laptop to start a writing project, quitting a job I absolutely despised with no other positions on the horizon, or tossing all our possessions into a U-Haul and moving to a town we’ve never even visited before in the middle of a pandemic have often caused a crescendo of vomit.

It's not that I’m uncertain or doubting my decision. There’s fear there, sure, as a constant companion to the unknown. And although fear can be a source of anxiety, the nausea lives somewhere deeper, somewhere burrowed in the catacombs deep within my gut. Those risks are ones I’ve taken knowing that they are what I need to do to head forward on my path, but that knowing makes following through even more challenging.

Growing up without agency, without safety, or the permission to develop a sense of self made me unable to trust my instincts. It’s pretty friggen hard to know what the hell you want when every desire begets dismissal or disaster. In an abusive home, it’s easier to make their desires yours. In order to stay safe, stay alive, you learn pretty quickly to stay silent about what you want.

No wonder asserting control over my life makes me want to hurl.

But one desire I’ve managed to hold on to throughout my life is writing. While I love so many of the arts, and have my fun dabbling, writing has been the one I most consistently go to. When I’m writing, and I hit onto something I know holds truth, my eyes go misty despite my distaste for tears. Occasionally, when speaking about these truths to those I trust and love, I’ll allow the tears to fall freely. But more often than not, the page is where I really let my heart out.

Last week I published my first blog post. My first brutally honest, open bit of writing made public. Many of you even read it. But before I pushed the publish button, I faced an unmatched wave of vomit and tears threatening to release onto the library floor in a duet of disaster. I kept it together. It helped that I was in public. I pushed the button and shared the post.

Then I took a breath, maybe one that I had been holding for a long, long time.

There’s no turning back now. And the fact that I wanted to vomit and cry at the same time tells me I never should. I’m trusting my gut, as sick to my stomach as that sensation can sometimes still be. And I’m following my heart too, nevermind the lingering self-consciousness over my tears.

Maybe, with time and practice, I’ll learn to embrace these sensations. Maybe, following my gut will someday become second nature. Maybe, I’ll eventually fully embrace the beauty of my own tears. But for now, I understand how essential following these inner truths is in my goal to a more fulfilling and joyful present. And that’s pretty awesome.

Those risks I’ve taken in my past, I can say with certitude that they’ve never led me astray. The job I quit to move toward something better took me away from the Twin Towers a week before they fell. The adventure from NH to FL in the middle of Covid led me to our new city filled with sunshine and opportunity that I’ve grown to love so much.

And that first writing project on my way-too-expensive laptop, well, it lit the spark that eventually led me here. I don’t know where this blogging project will lead to next. My hope is that those reading may feel a little less alone in their journey, and maybe a little more inspired to keep moving forward too. But for now, it’s where I know I need to be, even if it sometimes makes me queasy and weepy in the middle of the periodicals section. And that’s pretty awesome too.