If only it were that easy, Sweetie Pies.
Do you remember when your dream/vision/goal was nothing more than an oversimplified idea that was tossed out amidst coffee and small talk? Friends and family told you that you should totally write that book/produce that album/paint/fly a plane — until you started to take your idea seriously.
Maybe that’s just me.
Once I started making real moves to live my life as the artist I desperately needed to be, some of the same people who agreed with the theory of living an authentic life had a difficult time processing the application of it. Even as I visibly became a stronger woman and bolder, more confident writer, they persisted with their negativity. They stonewalled the contacts that could help to expedite the process of shifting my career. Or they simply disappeared.
I’ve written numerous posts about what we can do to overcome our situations, with the focus of making ourselves better. Indeed, I still believe that the only thing we really control is ourselves. We can’t always control what happens to us, but we certainly have the last say on what happens through us.
However, perhaps I was amiss in not addressing these pretenders — the ones who can only love and support us when we are as miserable as they are. I realize now that eventually we have to address them. They’re our family. They’ve known us since kindergarten. No matter how much we try to distance ourselves from them, they will keep showing up at weddings, funerals, reunions, and anywhere we really want to be. Seriously, they never keep their dumb asses home. And even when they do, they hit us up on Facebook.
So, when they ask you if you’re still doing that thing you do, tell them —
Yes…and I see that you’re still an idiot.
Then walk away. Walk away and keep writing. Keep drawing. Keep singing. Keep taking pictures. Keep being the person who can look in the mirror and be proud that you jumped off the crazy train of misery and never looked back. Keep flying.
Make the idiots wish they were more like you. Freaking awesome.