A Week of Being a Messy Human

Have you considered the experience of A Week of Being a Messy Human recently? I am 83,865 words into writing a book. A memoir to be exact. I don’t know how I will publish it (look for an agent or self publish) and that really doesn’t matter to me because I am not writing the book to sell it but rather to understand myself better. Writing is creative and creativity is a way of connecting things. Our modern day lives are so compartmentalized that connectivity is something I crave.

I have a writing coach and she is simply an awesome human being.

I can’t wait to meet her in person one day! She is the first person I heard use the term “messy human” and I am obsessed with it. It has saved me from being my usual self critical self during the process of this creative endeavor. Writing about my flaws and mistakes can produce a lot of disapproving doubt about myself. Being compassionate with myself is essential to my success in getting my thoughts onto paper. Remembering I am merely a human, messy sometimes even, is priceless in considering A Week of Being a Messy Human.

Whenever I go for things that I am passionate about, my world tends to start imploding around me. Although new age thinking would have me believe I am causing this to happen for some cosmic or karmic reason or religious thinking would have me believe I have something to learn from these hard life lessons or psychology would have me believe I am self sabotaging my efforts, I think it is just because I require some messy humanistic qualities to keep me going.

Each time I am a Messy Human, I don’t always say the right things, express myself correctly and I tend to react rather than respond to life’s experiences. I try not to be a Messy Human but the process of writing requires me to be systematic, ordered and organized and quite frankly I am depleted by those attributes after a few hours of writing. Some chaotic and spontaneous messy human experiences help me to stay afloat.

Funny, as I reread this I realize I sound like I have it all together. Nope. Not at all.

What I do have is a desire. A passion. I want to write this book, for me and maybe for you (who knows). I have needed to find a new way to think of everyday life events such as a husband who is always trying too hard, dinner that needs to be made each night, the washing machine that refuses to act up when the repair man is here, the aging dog that I trip over every time I get up, the difficulties of relationships, etc… And as I found myself caught in the web of an angry neighbors rant last night, I decided that it was ok. My life is ok. I am ok.

Currently, I am in the middle of creating something which means the imploding is happening to help me, not distract or deter me. I have to come up for air and remember to breathe. These messy human experience this week have done just that, allowed me to exhale.

While diving deep into something like writing a book, it is good to know that I have a built in flotation device. Instead of being angry at these crazy things, I am grateful for them.