The next right thing

Today, I started writing at around 5:00 am, and made my way through about 2 pages worth of an idea when……wait for it…..my laptop randomly restarted and I lost all of my work.  Yes, I’m technically challenged, so I first tried to see if it had automatically saved before it shut down.  But alas, it did not.  I hadn’t even titled the writing or saved it in any way, so it’s a thing of the past.  So maybe it was all for naught.  And maybe it’s just teaching me that sometimes you have to put in the work a second time.  It may be better.  It may even lead to something completely different.  

Monitor and adjust, baby.  Go with the flow, and keep on working.  What's the next right thing? 

I’ve always thought the idea that “everything happens for a reason” is silly, because I don’t think that.  I just think this is a positive way to view the act of monitoring and adjusting to life.  An ability to take the present, make use of it, learn from the past, and do the next best thing.  It’s doubtful that any higher being wanted that to happen, like my writing is so important that he or she thought it necessary to do something with it.  That’s just funny.  Upon my laptop restarting, I was simply faced with a choice.  What do I do next?  I decided that I’m only risking time, and time I have, so let’s go for it.

What are we willing to risk when we believe in something? 

What is the next right thing?

When I was a stay at home mom, I felt like my creativity was dying a slow death, so I searched for ways to engage it.  I used to rearrange furniture and redecorate rooms on a regular basis, efforts to flesh out what I valued within myself, creativity and inspiration.  I was willing to risk quite a bit to change my surroundings, but that meant that these activities actually needed to fit into a budget and a schedule.  Sometimes, I’d put my big kids down for naps, and in 2 hours’ time, they’d wake up to a formal dining room that was now a funky playroom or a lounge space to read.  I loved working through ideas independently and would often never even voice the plan ahead of time or run my ideas by my husband or friends.  I just went for it, frankly.  I’d move items that I had no business moving, like entire wall units and large TV’s from the early 2000’s and sort through every viable design option available.  This was my happy place.  My flow.  Finding the time and energy to be myself fully, and do what was important to me, which was obviously creative in nature and independent in thought.  I didn’t want anyone to tell me no, and so I didn’t wait for permission.  I don’t think it was being selfish, it was just my way of keeping my brain alive during the many years at home.  Furniture was meant to be moved, tablecloths could be curtains, and pillows were my muses. 

Then at some point, I decided that I wanted to be a floral designer.  Let me rephrase that, I didn’t actually care about being called a floral designer, I just wanted someone else to fund my creativity.  To create the opportunity where I could do more of what made me….me.  Watching a lot of Oprah had taught me that inspiration was a positive force, and that maybe it was more important than my actual experience.  And that was true.  No one cared or even asked me at the beginning, about my training or certifications in any way.  Brides simply cared about impressive table designs and bouquets that inspired wonder.  And I was all for both as well.  And also about acting on new ideas that seemed impossible, and making them a reality.  

I learned that I could trust myself without knowing the specifics of exactly how to do something.  I mean, I would do a little research, but not traditionally try out designs until the day of the event.  Just have faith and figure it out along the way.  Pretty risky when I look back on it.  It’s probably a good thing that I didn’t run ideas by anyone.  They might have said it was a bad idea to have a large-scale design hang from tree branches, that I had never tried before, and didn’t truly know was architecturally sound.  But my team and I, which consisted of a few close friends and my former voice student, used an articulating boom lift for the first time, driving it down a steep hill along the river’s edge, and figured that shit out.  And even when ideas didn’t quite work, I trusted myself to monitor and adjust to the situation.  Nothing ever failed terribly.  A lot of the time, I was smart enough not to say my true intentions aloud, therefore no one would be disappointed in the result.  I always sought to do more than what was expected of me, and the journey was worth it.  

I don’t have pictures of everything I did.  It was never really about that.  Using flowers that eventually wilted, meant that the results and appreciation therein were fleeting, and I liked that.  Kind of like experiencing live entertainment.  The memories and what I learned in the creative process were more important than holding onto the actual creations in any way. 

The business functioned by word of mouth.  I never had to advertise in any way, or seek out work.  And additionally, I didn’t have to invest money or ask others to sacrifice much in order for the business to function.  I’d take on whatever projects fit into our family schedule, work on weekends where my husband could care for the kids, and not allow what seemed to be a selfish endeavor, affect others negatively in any way.   

But at some point, there was a decision to be made.  Would I sacrifice more and ask others to do so, for the business to grow?  I truly believed that the potential was there and even the opportunity.  And in truth, I knew I was gifted as a designer, although my naivete may have been a small part of what made me gifted.  If no one tells you no, the answer is always yes, right?

I never actually made a decision.  My inactivity said it all.  I let inspiration fall away, ideas remain unspoken, and opportunity pass me by.  And I simply wouldn’t act on my ideas for growth, not if I thought it would affect others.  Do it in a small way, that should be enough.  That’s what I thought.

Well, what if it wasn’t?  What if I would have learned more from the endeavor of actively building the business, and risking more to get more?  Not more money.  I already said that wasn’t the main objective.  The next right thing was the objective.  To work towards more and build on my strengths.  Strength in perseverance, strength in self-confidence, and strength in creativity.   That would have been a wonderful thing to show my children.  But at some level, I thought that I didn’t deserve it.  That I should and would be a supportive figure for others, not worthy of asking it for myself.  As if the happiness of others was always more important than my own, and its sacrifice meant that I was a good person.

That’s just ridiculous to say now.  I shouldn’t have been awaiting permission, or looking for some grand sign telling me what the next right thing was.  Those answers don’t always come, not if you wait too long to act.  Inspiration is unique, creativity is a gift, and risk is just this- a choice, only brought to life, by action. 

The only truly selfish thing I ever did was drink.  It became my way of treating myself, of avoidance in selfish form, of taking back time, and doing what I wanted, when I wanted to do it.  The belligerence of a child, throwing toys at the door in a tantrum.  The only risk that I saw was that I was hurting myself.

But I’ve already told you enough, for you to know that wasn’t the case.  My plan was always to take back what was mine.  Inspiration, time and independence.  I had even scheduled it into my day!  I tried so hard not to affect others or my work.  But here was the reality:  it was a juvenile choice that literally shut down the creative side of my personality.  I wasn’t actually a “rager,” not one to yell and moan when intoxicated.  I just became a non-entity, erasing the good parts of my inner self.  And those same qualities were hungover the next day. 

By the time I became a classroom teacher and choral director, I was already drinking nightly at least some weeks.  I believe I was a good teacher, even gifted, but that creativity absolutely hinged on how much I drank the night before.  Both my effectiveness as a teacher, and my ability to connect with others diminished if I drank too much the night before. I tried to be cognizant of its affects, but I have no idea just what I could have done as a teacher, if I had entered recovery sooner.

I would love to be back in the classroom today, because I know for certain I would be an even better teacher, because my brain functions at its fullest now, and I’m just a better person in general.  It’s difficult to go to my daughter’s choir concerts and try to stifle the desire to conduct and be in that musical expression.  I miss the students and the ability to connect through music and artistic expression, and I know that it is part of my calling.  That doesn't mean that it has to look exactly like it did before.  It just means that I have to find out what parts are truly important, and try to find a way back to them.  

Perhaps I’ll teach again.  I know that leaving for awhile was the next right thing.  Period.  My recovery had to be the priority, and that continues today.  I am not sorry for being selfish in this way, and I am also not dismissive of the importance of creativity in my life. 

So, I’ll take my present circumstances and monitor and adjust.  I’ll risk comfort for inspiration and creativity.  I’ll do for myself what I’m trying to teach my children to do for themselves. 

The furniture is moving, the flowers are waiting to be arranged, and business is booming.  I am still a teacher and I am conducting with these words.  It may look a little different than what I anticipated, but I’ll make do, because I’m inspired by the challenge at hand.