Stress Is a Speed Bump on the Fwy

I have recently reverted back to my old state as "victim." That attribute snuck in as I was paying attention to something else. I was stressing myself out, and forgetting who I am.

I am a powerful, creative woman. I am a writer, a blogger and sometimes a graphic artist, on a small scale. And I stress myself out with internal messages like "I'm not good enough" or "I'll never get this done." I tell myself lies and then I believe them.

Enough is enough. Just because I used to go to that loser place doesn't mean I belong there. I don't belong there. I left that location in 1989, or there abouts. So how did I find myself there last week? It's an easy place to go. It's actually easier to go there than not.

The waves just wash me up on that shore. Usually I'm tossed about before the ocean spits me out onto the sands of that beach. No creative juices flow here, it is just sand, quicksand. There are no dreams or goals here, only "I wish..."

"I wish" is not a powerful place. It is a place for victims who have no goals or plans -- no road maps. "I wish" is a place for those who can't say "I am going there, even without a map." There is no determination, there is no quest.

And it all comes about from the quicksand-like entrapment of stress. Stress can keep me immobilized, and victimized. It keeps me there until I remember who I am. It is then I remember my skills and talents. It is then I am released. It is then I book an exit off this place, and I am home again.