Rebel with a cause

When I was a child I was told I was wilful and that ‘I couldn’t be told.’ Then, as a teen, I was the rebellious one, the black sheep. When I reached adult hood I was told I was bloody-minded.

My husband had no idea what he was getting himself into. His mother was not any of those things. I came along and things took a sharp turn. He soon had to learn how to do the washing, cooking and cleaning alongside me. I understood the concept of equality and it was high time he got with the programme. We both worked full time and drove over an hour to work each way. I couldn’t see why all the household chores were automatically mine because I was a woman. We quickly became a team. We divided up the jobs until I was a full time mum. Then I did the majority of the household and Glyn worked full time and played in a band every weekend for creative outlet and to help pay the bills. 

We both parented the children which was a new thing for our generation. Our parents had not role modelled this way of parenting. It made perfect sense to me. Like most people, we made it up as we went along.

This is not meant to be a feminist rant, although — don’t get me started. 

This is about the tendency I have to be oppositional. Sometimes to my own detriment. Work colleagues thought I had ‘more front than Myer,’ that I was opinionated, too full of myself and didn’t fit the picture they had of who I should be. I was too creative, too loud, too confident, in other words I was too much.  

Society worked hard to train me to be less, to be quieter, to fit in to the norm, to not rock the boat. Even though I inwardly rebelled, to some extent it worked and I became who I needed to be in this world. Compromise is a two sided coin.

It’s only recently I discovered how it has impacted my writing. I’ve been trying, by myself, to nut out what is holding me back from getting on with writing. Last year, on a writing retreat, I recognized a tendency I have, to not do the very thing I want to do. Whenever anyone encouraged me to write it had the opposite effect. The more they said ‘I can’t wait to read your story’ the more I felt pressured which pushed a ‘don’t do it’ button in my brain.

It seems that my oppositional nature, which I was born with, and considered a strength, had turned against me. Now I was rebelling against myself. Something which helped me push through barriers in life was now busy building fences in my writer’s den. The cave in my mind where all the stories live. She, the rebel in my mind, was busy with hammer and nails building fences, bunkers, foxholes  and sheds, with signs that read ‘Do not enter’ and ‘you can’t make me,’ all over the doors and walls. Talk about a mental block, it was turning into a fortress.

I decided to follow up the writing retreat with mindset coaching sessions, run by the same writing retreat leader. Each week I have been discovering more about the things that hold me back. 

One week in I was already feeling motivated and three weeks in I am working on the manuscript and prioritizing writing instead of distracting myself or letting others distract me. It’s early days but I’m cheering myself on each day instead of hoping something changes. 

I write this not for sympathy or to complain about my lot in life, I simply want to encourage anyone who may be struggling with mental blocks. Especially those limiting beliefs that are buried deep. The very thing  that prevents us from creating that thing we’ve been longing to create.

 

I’ll keep you posted on how it goes.  What do you do to get around mental roadblocks?

Side note: If you’d like to follow up on mindset coaching or writing retreats I highly recommend: https://megdunley.com/

My other recommendation, as usual, is my wonderful mentor and all round amazing person: https://jenstorer.com/