Last year, I saw this on one of the office doors in the Performing Arts Department at the college where I teach. 

I LOVE this. I've heard it said recently that anyone can go through hell and come out having learned nothing, having not gained a deeper sense of love and compassion. Suffering does not automatically equal wisdom. It's possible to suffer and become bitter and jaded.I think we have all heard someone we know talk a big game about having become wise through a break-up, lost job, or disappointment, and yet their words are still spoken through a clenched jaw; it is clear to see the anger and rage nearly boil over at that moment.

​Rage is natural. Anger is necessary. And yes, even bitterness is part of the palette of human emotions. I need to feel these things and suspect you do, too. But there's a difference between allowing them to blow through, throw us off course for a time, and letting them steer us back to a place of deeper determination and love, and simply being eaten alive by the suffering these feelings can cause.

Whenever I find myself a bit quick to prove my suffering has made me wise, it's a moment to pause.

What haven't I worked through yet?

What am I trying to rush?

What am I trying to hide?

I wrote the first draft of my book during a time when I had a day job that was not healthy for me, and so much of that first version was full of anger. It was so necessary for me to express and the very act of writing it out each day was a release that helped me get through that toxic time.

But when I reread the draft a few years later, I realized that it wasn't all that interesting. The anger on its own, without being crystallized into something representing action, hope, and curiosity about what the future might hold, felt pretty boring. So I thanked the past Melissa that had the wherewithal to essentially journal her feelings each day and essentially save her sanity that way, and scrapped that draft. I started over.

We absolutely need to feel all the painful feelings. There's no getting to tenderness without this step. But let's not forget that tenderness is the place to get to. It is easy to stay angry. To grow bitter. 

But to go through hell and come out singing? What a beautiful possibility.

P.S.: And when you are feeling rage? I highly suggest a loud sing along of Totally Fucked from Spring Awakening. It is my go-to song for getting all the angry feels expressed in a way that helps me to feel better afterwards. 

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Philip Seymour Hoffman has always been one of my favorite actors and though Almost Famous  is by no means a favorite movie of mine, his performance as rock critic Lester Bangs is one for the books. I came across this quote today and must admit that I have been feeling pretty uncool lately. I feel overwhelmed, a little more uninspired than usual, and generally wiped out. I don't feel "on" or ready or presentable  or particularly clever or creative at the moment, and as a result, have been feeling like the most vulnerable version of myself.  I have faith this feeling will pass (as feelings do), but boy,  it feels tough in the meanwhile. 

Wisdom and hope isn't easily found online, but this quote (and the movie clip containing it below) made me feel just a little more hope. Maybe it's in our uncool moments, when we feel a little lost and wobbly, that we have the best chance of being a real human being capable of connecting to and feeling compassion for all the other uncool souls out there. It's easy to tell yourself you're the only one, but the truth is, there's a whole community of uncool out there; we're in good company.

Wishing you a week where you give yourself permission to not be put together all the time.

Wishing you patience with riding out whatever emotional wave you might be surfing right now.

​May you mind these tender moments while they are here, and practice staying with them long enough to see what kind of magic might come of them. 

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.