So this post has been marinating inside me for a while, and I think it’s finally ready to be written.

Whereas Week 1 looked at the moment of crossing the threshold into the new year, new desires, and new dreams, and Week 2 talked about connecting to your roots so as to be very grounded in this yearlong journey, Week 3 is all about our personal stories in general, and then what author Sarah Blackthorne refers to as our “core stories” in particular.

Now this week’s topic has been kind of tricky for me, because for as long as I can remember I have identified as being a story teller-even when I had no idea that’s what I was, and before I could ever even articulate that kind of thought. Because, stories? YES PLEASE! Consuming them, telling them, dreaming them up-that is the stuff, the substance, the structure that makes up my life. So how can I possible identify with just one? Can’t be done.

Plus, for as long as I can remember I have viewed myself and my life with this weird kind of parallel double vision. I’m in my life, living it. But I’m also a little bit separated from it, viewing and watching and describing my  life internally as the heroine of a story that is constantly being played out/written in front of an audience. I am always narrating everything that happens in and around me, sometimes in my mind, and sometimes out loud (So in case you ever pass me in the grocery store and why the hell I’m babbling to no one, this is why).

It’s so weird, but from the very first time I wrote an entry in my very first diary, I have written “to” some sort of audience. As I’m writing, I’m also seeing and hearing an audience receiving this words. So it’s never just me and the writing; it’s me, and the writing, and this invisible, yet extremely real presence of other people who are interacting with my words. It’s weird. And kind of hard to explain.

Part of it is probably because I’ve been performing in front of people in some kind of way since I was very little. And now, thanks to a recent diagnosis, I know that part of it is due to the fact that I suffer from  a type of dissociative disorder, the other defining symptom of which is, “Identity disturbance, such as a significant and persistent unstable self-image or sense of self”, with some pretty severe mood cycling.

So I have the part of me that is constantly creating new stories (both pleasant and enjoyable, as well as dire and tragic) and not only can‘t identify with just one, but who would die of boredom with only one story to play with. But then I also have a bunch of weird brain wiring that constantly, desperately compels me to find One Story, One Answer, One Permanent Thing that I can cling to and say, “THIS IS WHO I AM!”

Yeah. So that‘s a lot of fun.

I wish I could tell you that I’d had some kind of miraculous breakthrough and found the solution to this constant push-and-pull, but the best I can do right now is just to notice:”Oh, look. I’m trying to ‘all-or-nothing’ myself again. And I know that doesn’t work. So I’m going to shift my focus over to something that feels good.”

However, despite my constantly (and exhaustingly) ever-shifting internal sands, I can say that there are lots of consistent threads that have weaved throughout whatever my particular story was at any given moment.

Passionate pursuit of God.

Constant seeking of new information and new experiences.

Fierce loyalty.

Entertainer.

Teacher.

Mind-bending courage.

Holder of Opposites.

Wicked sharp sense of humor.

Joyful One.

Creator.

Lover of Life.

So I may not have One Tidy Answer (which I probably wouldn’t even want if I actually had it). But I have found a pretty amazing place to land.

And the fact that I can always, eventually, find these soft places for myself to land? Well, I’m happy to be able to tell you that, no matter what might have gone on in the story preceding it, more and more often, this is how the chapters of my story end.

 

A few weeks ago, I heard about this program called “A Year With Myself: A Yearlong Adventure Of Empowering Yourself“. Every week you receive a new lesson with articles by well-known people in the personal growth and creativity fields, with some writing prompts and some actions you can take to dig into the theme for each week. It’s a go-at-your-own-pace kind of a thing, which is good, because I’m just now getting around to posting about weeks 1 and 2, the themes of which are “The Threshold”, and “Roots”.

So, I don’t know if I’ve mentioned this before or not, but I am really weird about my name. I think it stems from the fact that my name is Jennifer and I was born in the early 1970’s, at which time every other girl was also named Jennifer. So I grew up always having to give both of my names, to distinguish myself from all the other Jennifers around me. But I never really thought about it, because that was what all the Jennifers had to do. It wasn’t ever any kind of “Thing”.

Then I hit 5th grade, and the weirdest thing happened. We were all asked to write our name on pieces of construction paper that would then be taped to the front of our desks, and for some reason, which I still haven’t figured out, I watched myself write down “Jenny”. It was so odd. I have no idea where that came from. So now, for the past almost-30 years, I have been Jenny, at school, at work, and with my friends. But not with my family, who still call me Jennifer or Jen.

(On a related note, for some reason this topic came up over Christmas, and regarding my self-assigned “nickname”, my mom said, “Well, you’ll notice that we completely rejected that, and refuse to call you by that name. And I burst out laughing and said, “Well that’s OK, because all this you’ve not been allowed to call me Jenny.”)

Then in addition to all of this, for some reason I inspire those around me to make up their own nicknames for me, some of which have included J.D. Hogg (from “The Dukes Of Hazard”, based on my initials), J.R. (ditto), and my personal favorite, bestowed upon me by a fellow bookseller when I worked at one of the big chain bookstores, “Jennyer”, which is defined as “a heightened state of being Jenny”.

The reason I’m bringing all of this up now is that this is the year I turn 40, which is a h-u-g-e threshold for me. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about how I want to transition into the next decade of my life, and as part of this transformation I’ve wondered if I want to go back to being called Jennifer (I’m leaning towards no.)

The other big difference between the start of this year and the start of the last few years is that I’m actually feeling fairly good, physically speaking. Things have been sort of stable  and manageable for a while, which means that I actually have energy and excitement and ideas about some new projects I might work on, and some new goals I might work toward. (I’m saying this all very quietly, because I don’t want to scare it all away.)

So in response to the writing prompt by Patti Digh from chapter 1, ” What spaces are you standing between? What ‘monkey bar’ (explained in the article, if you want to check it out. Chapter 1 is free to download) are you moving from, and what monkey bar are you moving to, in 2012?, I would say this:

I am moving from a year (or 4) of fighting for my health to the exclusion of everything else, to a year that already has lots of space and inspiration for welcoming in my new desires.

It is a still place. It’s not stagnant, just still. It is a place of breathing deeply and easily. It is a place of gathering resources and planting desires. It is restful. It is peaceful and calm. It is supportive and nourishing and welcoming. It is not scary at all. And it’s been a hell of a long time in coming.

After mindfully considering and actively engaging in your current thresholds, chapter 2 then asks you to consider your roots, and your compass. It asks you to think about the foundation that will sustain you, and the tools that will help guide you and keep you connected to yourself as you undertake the journey of this year.

This week’s prompts come from Goddess Leonie Dawson who asks, “Have you found your soul’s compass yet?” And then, from the creator of this program, C.A. Kobu, “What do roots mean for you?”

As I’ve been learning over the past few years, my most basic, fundamental grounding in this world is my body. I couldn’t experience anything here were it not for living inside this body.

So then there are roots to support my body: eating, drinking, taking care of my health, movement, building strength and endurance, staying limber.

And then the roots to support these practices are my beliefs:

-I deserve to be here, just ‘cuz

-I am allowed to take care of my body

-I am allowed to have places where I start and others begin

-It is OK to enjoy being in my body

-I can trust my body, because it knows exactly what to do

Everything else flows out of this place.

Until next time.