the Monday that follows Sunday

Exhale. Where do I want to go this morning? I've been delaying my blogging and as such many stories and thoughts are pushing up against my fingers for their voice. Start with now.

It's Monday of my last week working full-time at the Shelter. It's just after 6am so I'll have to put a limit on my typing so that I can get out the door on time. I am very relieved to be heading into the homestretch with work. It's difficult not to be disparaging about the Shelter when I hold my experience of what it has been like working there. I can say that it has been an enormous lesson in looking at my various motivations for the choices I make, particularly with respect to work. I suppose like much of our society, I have attached the notion of being of service to my work and that, often in service, there is sacrifice. It's a choice, of course, like anything, but I have had a compulsion over the years to direct my skills and training into trying to help out people and causes who very obviously are in need. The folks who live and work at the Shelter are wonderful souls and I wanted to be helpful.

I was drowning.

This broaches on another motivation.... my ego. My desire to feel my full wingspan professionally in an environment that is in dire need of help brought out my impulse to swoop in with a cape and make things better. Hubris.

And then there's the motivation that is tough to dance around. Money. And here is where I feel energy begin to move in my body in the form of fear. Last night I was visited by the demons who harass me about my lack of adult-like responsibility when it comes to supporting myself and becoming a grown-up. I have no idea how I will support myself financially through this decision to resign from my job.

This is terrifying to admit. I am sitting on this wall which divides two territories. One territory is known and travelled and yet for my heart, body, and spirit I could not find a good fit in working at a job that was making me sick even though it kept me linked to my profession and paid my bills. Because the shoe was so obviously the wrong size, I looked deeper into my soul and made the decision to spend the next few months writing. This is a territory that thrills me, scares me, excites me, and holds me and yet my travels in this land have been private, a sheltering place, separate from making a living.

And so this all brings me up against a very core issue -- if I'm not travelling a well-trod path, making a living, offering sacrifices of myself, will I be okay? Who or what will support this journey?

I wonder if this is all just a childish way to avoid growing up and assuming the responsibilities of real life. I can hear the supportive voices of the people who love me attempting to soothe my worries but this is ultimately a solo path. Each of us makes a life and chooses a route that is our own private journey. Regardless of whether we have a mate or a family or a brilliant circle of friends, each of us walks alone with our demons speaking into one ear and our spirit whispering from the quiet. As I sit on this stone wall between two territories, the tension is mounting.