One evening as I met with my therapist, I tried to describe the sometimes frustration that arises when I experience the difficult balance that is having a day job and balancing my creative life and my personal life. It's a recurring story line in my life, this fear of never being able to get to a place where I "have it altogether."

During the conversation with my therapist, I felt like if I was heavily involved in a creative pursuit - writing a book, rehearsing a play, or even just concocting new recipes in the kitchen - that I was not taking the best care of my physical self. If I find myself working later than scheduled, I don't feel like I'm being the best Melissa for my partner, my family, and my friends. It's a teeter-totter kind of feeling and it can leave me feeling like a failure. It makes me feel like I'll never catch up, never get out of student debt, and never be able to find myself in a place in life where I feel I can take a rest.

Sound familiar? 

My therapist listened and then spoke.

"It's hard to feel like you can never quite catch up. It's painful to not be where you want to be and understandable to want to give up."

I nodded, appreciating that she was holding space for me to be with my feelings. Then she asked a question I didn't see coming.

"If you were watching yourself in a movie, would you be rooting for yourself?"

I just kind of stared. What? She went on.

"You are a creative person, right? You love stories, right? Well, what if you were a characters in a story and you were watching yourself on screen? What would you see?"

I answered more quickly than I expected.

"I see someone who has so much love for the people in her life and the things she makes, Someone who feels overwhelmed often but tries really hard. Someone who has a good heart and deserves good things."

Whoa. She kept going with the questions.

"And if you put yourself in the story, would you root for yourself?"

"Absolutely." I felt myself bypass my long held modesty and fear of thinking too highly of myself and blurt out what was essentially unabashed self-love and support for me, the character in the never before made movie. In the process, I felt myself pulling for me, Real Life Melissa.

When I started to see myself through the perspective of the heroine of my own story, I see someone that is overwhelmed, true. Flawed, of course. Stubborn and scared and mad as hell sometimes. And I see someone who has such a zest for the people I love, the stories I create, and the adventure that is life itself.  It's almost as if the things I love about myself mean even more because of the hard, painful feelings that are perpetually present alongside those things. All in all, I see someone in the middle of a life changing quest that is testing every ounce of their strength, endurance, and hope. 

​Why would I not root for someone like that?

Now it's your turn. Imagine yourself as a character in a movie. What do you see? Faults, sure. Messy parts, no doubt. And passion. Curiosity. Playfulness. Humor. Determination. A love of beauty. Someone in the middle of a life changing quest that is testing every ounce of their strength, endurance, and hope.

Why would you not root for someone like that?

If you need a further push to imagine youself in the story, take it a step further and write a two to three page story featuring you as the hero/ine.

Sketch out a movie poster that depicts you as the main character in the middle of the quest. 

If you like, choose a movie where you always root for the main character, no matter how times you have seen it. Ask yourself what you have in common with them. Chances are, more than you think. Ask yourself: If I'm rooting for them, why aren't I rooting for myself?

Take care this week, Friends. You're the hero/ine you never you knew you were. 

Sometimes all you can see is fog; in the sky, in your head, in your heart.
​
We went to the beach recently and the gorgeous view of the horizon, sailboats, and the opposite shore dotted with beach houses disappeared quite suddenly as the fog began to roll in. Within minutes, all the steady points of reference were gone; it was hard to even see the other beach goers if they were more than 20 or 30 yards away. The sun went away and though it was only mid-day, the temperature dropped and there was a slightly cooler twilight-like feel to the air.

My heart began to race realizing that the familiar was fading away into a sense of nothingness. The rush of the Atlantic at my feet as I walked along the beach only seemed to add to my anxiety. My feet felt a little unsteady. The shifting sand, having before felt flexible, now felt groundless. I longed to get the clarity I had enjoyed just a few moments earlier.

In just a few minutes, the fog receded and the sun returned. The boats and the swimmers and the houses across the way came back in sharp relief under a warm sky. In the return to normal, it was hard to believe that things had ever been grey and vague.

If you're in the midst of the mist, however that is manifesting in your life today, I hope you know you're not alone. I also hope that you can have the grace to hold two truths at the same time: the fog is real and it's disorienting. And it's not permanent. Even when the haze blots out the sight of the people, things, experiences, and hopes we have held in our hearts, it doesn't have the power to disintegrate these things merely by being present.

Take care of yourselves, Friends. The fog comes to visit us all at one some point, likely several times during our walkabout on this earth. Let yourself be scared, but don't be fooled into thinking you're in for perpetual darkness. Give yourself permission to feel unsteady, but don't surrender the tools you possess to keep yourself rooted during times when the light goes.

When you can't see, stay. 

The fog might have the power to stay for awhile, but then, so do you.

Today I spent the afternoon in a nearby New England beach town, hanging out with my husband. We decided we would grab lunch at a local spot before heading to the beach and as we were sitting at the counter eating our food, I saw one of my favorite podcasters, Laura McKowen, waiting in line for lunch. I suddenly felt pulled in two different directions. Do I interrupt her Sunday afternoon to tell her how much I love her work and risk feeling like a little kid, all excited over seeing someone she really admires, or do I let the moment pass and not take a chance on making everyone feel uncomfortable?

You see, I have a history of becoming a fan girl in front of the handful of creative heroes I have. Back in 2003, I may have even followed Julia Stiles to the bathroom at a Broadway show to ask for an autograph and a photo (I was 19 years old and still get red faced at the thought of being too aggressive a fan--she politely but firmly told me she would not take a photo). Though this tongue-tied-ness and sense of being awestruck have long been a part of me I have felt embarrassment over, recently I've begun to view my urge to approach creative souls I admire in a new light. 

What if instead of asking them for something (a photo, an autograph, etc.), I could give them a simple thank you instead? 

Would the simple act of expressing gratitude leave me feeling ashamed of my behavior and uncomfortable at the way I interacted with another human being?

Was it possible to gift someone who is admired and successful something that they too, might still need or want? To know their work has meaning and is affecting people that don't know them personally?

Turns out, a little thanks goes a long way.

While I was grabbing a straw and an extra napkin from the lunch counter, I caught Laura's eye and said "I think I listen to your podcast."

She smiled and I proceeded to tell her how much I loved listening and how listening to several episodes this winter about writing had helped give me the final push I needed to finish my first book.  She was kind enough to ask what the book was about and I was able give an honest, authentic, non-creepy complement. 

"Thank you so much for the work you do. It has helped me a lot. I didn't want to bother you during your afternoon, but I did want to let you know."

It felt a little awkward to approach someone I don't actually know, yes, but it would have felt a little worse to not take the chance to say anything at all. 

When is the last time someone thanked you for being a positive part of their life? 

Did you feel annoyed or put off by this support, or heartened by it?

Chances are, if it was done with an open heart and involved honest gratitude, you did good.

​Everyone, no matter whether they are an Oscar winner or a subway busker, can stand to know that someone is noticing the things they are making, straight from the heart. 

This week, choose someone whom you admire, no matter the reason. Write them a note, give them a call, or comment or direct message on social media and let them know why and how they rock your world. It doesn't matter if you get a reply, all that matters is that you take the chance to express some thanks to someone who makes the world a more magical place.

Reach out and see if you don't feel inspired to keep the chain of creative inspiration going by making some magic yourself.