My First Art Opening

I had my first art opening on Friday the 13th. It still doesn’t feel real. How could it be that my dream came true?

It scares me. My life is actually good….this is an unfamiliar place. I have been panicking.

I found myself with a pounding heart and short of breath. I felt as though the world was spinning. I thought I was going to die.

Then my mind flooded with all of my greatest fears and I played every possible bad scenario out in my head.

I was convinced that if I did my art show and streamed it, someone would show up to harm me…and it would be broadcasted.

The threats of the past cause me to retreat into survival mode and I found myself in fight or flight.

Determined not to cancel my own show again, determined not to let anyone down again, determined not to pick up substances…

I put on my tennis shoes

cried as hard as I could

and took off running.

I coped in a healthy way.

I cried for days.

I felt as though I couldn’t breathe so many times.

And I got through it.

Friday the 13th came…and I showed up.

In spite of the fear. In spite of the insecurity. In spite of being uncomfortable.

Growth happens when we get uncomfortable.

I showed up…and so did other people.

No one in my audience heckled me.

The stream went live and I could feel the presence of people whom I love.

I cried again as I strummed my guitar and I read a poem to my son.

The show closed and at 8 pm I returned to my apartment to submit my final papers before midnight.

At 11:45 pm I hit submit.

And I slept for 19 hours.

I woke up and I realized…

I’m still alive.

I got through it.

I have worked my butt off.

My dream came true.

I have no homework.

And I am finally able to be at peace...and enjoy it.

I honestly am at a loss for words.

Which is saying a lot

for a writer.