A New Day

Posting about whether or not Boyfriend is thwarting me creatively wouldn't be fair without talking to him. I get on his case about being too internal with his thinking (and sometimes decision-making) process, but I don't think I'm much better. I've been riding out this creative angst on my own. I haven't included him in the conversation. I've made assumptions about him and his life and what he wants.

Saying 'I'm leaving' would be easy. Putting my creative dis-ease on his shoulders would also be easy. But neither of those things solves the problem because it skips one major, fundamental truth. My life is my responsibility. My current situation, even my current body, is the result of my thought patterns.

I have created this inflamed and stifled creative flow. And if my relationship stunts my growth, I've created that too.

If I take full responsibility, I wouldn't blame Boyfriend for any of it. That gives him the power to determine my life, my happiness, my health. Those things are my job. The person who is stifled is me. The person whose job it is to unblock is me.

Yesterday, I cleared out my work space. I made the room into a haven of calm with my beautiful Lawren Harris print and blue Chinese vase. I made a list of things still yet to do like renovating the collection of books in my bookshelf for a new influx of ideas and imagery. And venturing to thrift shops, flea markets and fabric stores, so I can bring weird and wonderful treasures into this room to act as idea seeds.

I sat and talked with Boyfriend. I told him, point blank, that I am dying here. That I need to be creatively stimulated or I will die. I need both the energy and sparkle of the city and the big calm of the wilderness, but the suburbs are nowhere. The best of no worlds. And that I am hoping that he can join me in my life of adventure, but I can't force him to be or do something he's not ready for.

I learned a valuable lesson, again, about assumptions. I learned the power of standing up for myself and my creativity. I learned that this is who I am. And I've been giving away pieces of myself and cutting off my own corners for a long, long time. I also learned that I am no longer willing to do that. And that it's not necessary. That this, to fight for my creative self, is the greatest act of love I have ever undertaken.

Of course, he rose to the challenge. That is what Boyfriend does. That is who he is. He even had an idea that was better than any I had. See, my parents are going on a year-long sabbatical to Australia and New Zealand. Which means an easy opening for a travel adventure, and also that their absolutely gorgeous Canmore townhouse is completely, blissfully available. Goodbye vinyl siding, hello mountain-soaked creative reatreat. Um, they're my parents. Why didn't I think of this?

And already, an adventure to New Zealand and Indonesia is beginning to take shape in my mind. Which is so funny because I went to see my beautiful family doc, Dr. Point Blank, yesterday and I ended up bawling in her office about all my problems. Dr. Point Blank always comes up with these matter-of-fact one liners, like Yoda or a crusty Zen master, cutting off my nebulous whiny confusion with something like, "You want to take control of your health, huh? So, why haven't I seen you in two years?"

And I sat there, next to the breast self-exam poster, sniveling away about a life of adventure and creativity. "So," she said, "You want to write and you want to travel. Yes?" I sniffed and wiped my eyes. Can my desires really be summed up that simply? Am I not as deeply complicated and fantastically, dramatically, daytime televisionly embroiled in a twisting, turning plot of stunted artistry as I thought? WTF?

"Well, yeah. I guess that's it," I said, sounding like a four-year-old. She nodded once, closed my file and said, "Do that."

Well, I guess I asked for clarity. Can't get much more clear than that.