I Still Don’t Know My Purpose (But I Did Clean the Kitchen)

In case you missed my 4 a.m. book review/blog post this morning (you can read it here), I’ve spent the last few weeks marinating in a sort of limbo of not knowing my purpose in life.

Keeping true to my word in that post, I’m showing up here and now in a daily check-in of sorts, of the creative life behind-the-scenes. I hope you’re not expecting much, because there isn’t much in the way of excitement, although there was clarity for me.

After the post, I listened to my own intuitive advice and got out of the house. I normally wouldn’t do this on a Wednesday–Thursdays or Fridays are my coffeeshop/library/public spaces writing days, but I knew if I stayed home I’d probably end up napping.

I packed my laptop and morning pages notebook and headed to Jimmy John’s. I know, not the logical place for a writer, since $tarbuck$ is next door, but the guy who owns the place always calls me sweetie or hon, and gives me a teacher discount. Please, no feminist lectures. Sometimes when you’re single and confused about the meaning of life, having someone notice you with a wink and extra slice of tomato is good for the soul.

I settled in the back booth and wrote my belated morning pages. I wrote about why I feel lost, I wrote about what I don’t know or understand about this human existence. I wrote three rough outlines for new articles for the other blog that may end up finding a home here (more on that in a bit). I was serenaded by two gruff and grungy construction workers singing Fleetwood Mac as they walked to the restroom while their BLT and Ultimate Porker were being made by Flirty McFlirt.

By page 9, I felt better. Lighter. Like I could bid my sandwich second family goodbye and get home to do something meaningful. That came in the form of cleaning the kitchen. Since I spent yesterday avoiding writing entirely by making six quarts of homemade chicken stock, tidiness called. That wiped me out, so I caught up on sleep with a nap, then took a quick two mile walk in the rain. I came home wet but refreshed enough to face the idea of tearing apart the foundation of other blog (the one I want to monetize) without losing my creative soul in the process.

This is what gaining mental clarity on my creative projects looks like. Brainstorming big things requires big paper while seated on a small meditation cushion. My great grandma’s antique coffee table is under that big pad, but you can’t see it. And yes, I know it’s time to take down the Christmas tree. Don’t judge.

Is it just me or does getting creative thoughts out of your head free up space in your body to breathe again? Like a normal human? I’m still flummoxed about a few bits and pieces, but this is, overall, what I needed to begin to redefine my purpose…if only for myself.

What I really wanted to do was make a short video for you encapsulating this post, but, 1) my hair looks awful from being caught in the rain and 2) I’m not ready for that much openness and vulnerability. Maybe soon. In the meantime, enjoy this last page of my journaling frenzy today. I’ll be back tomorrow with some kind of creative life update. Let’s hope it’s not the only writing I accomplish.

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