I know it somewhere deep
I was supposed to go celebrate the launch of the Chicago chapter of a well-known organization for composers tonight. I could see no reason not to go. People whose company I enjoy were going to be there, there were free appetizers and drinks, and I could potentially make some good connections with other people in the industry.
So why was I balking at the idea of attending?
I drew a tarot card. The 7 of wands? The card about standing up for yourself, about fighting for what you believe in? That didn't make sense. Time to think more.
I thought I was being lazy. Maybe I didn't want to change out of my sweatpants, to catch the L, to figure out what to talk about with a bunch of strangers. I have ADHD, so I've been telling myself that I'm lazy my whole life. It's kind of my default assumption whenever I'm hesitant to do anything.
So, I decided I would power through the laziness. I showered, did my hair, put on a cute outfit.
I still didn't want to go. Ridiculous. So lazy.
No. That wasn't it. Something was nagging at me. What was it?
Sometimes when I get a feeling I can't name, I can manage to find a thread. I find the bad feeling thread, slowly work at untangling it from the others around it, see what the other end of it is attached to.
So I laid on my bed, on top of the quilt, wearing my carefully put together outfit. I stared at the ceiling and started digging through my own psyche.
I untangled the thread away from presumed laziness, introversion, and feeling overwhelmed by the demands of a creative freelance career. This was something else. Finally, after a lot of exploring and untangling, I reached the end of it. There I found my own personal value system, with a small bit of the thread splitting off and attaching to trauma.
Values? Trauma? In response to a launch party?
Then it clicked. Something I had forgotten about. An event months ago with the president of the parent organization, where they were discussing forming a Chicago chapter. A slideshow of the high profile members of the organization. A picture and proud name drop of Danny Elfman. A sick feeling in my stomach.
And just a few hours ago, the 7 of wands. The card about standing up for yourself, about fighting for what you believe in.
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I didn't go. I don't feel particularly good or brave for not going. Is it brave to spend the evening on your couch watching YouTube videos? I don't know, probably not.
I'm trying to unpack what I want to do going forward. I may go to future events. I know the leaders of the new Chicago chapter to be good people. And the local composing community is pretty small overall, so maybe I can do something to help ensure that our little corner of the organization is a good, safe one.
But for tonight, the president of the organization was flying in to be at this launch party, and I couldn't stop picturing him beaming as he talked about Danny Elfman. The heaviness I felt, the strong hesitancy, the general weird "badness," feeling like I was swimming through a pool of molasses when I thought about going to this thing, it wasn't laziness or social anxiety. It was a deep, innate sense of feeling unsafe.
I've never read The Body Keeps the Score, but I do know the book's title to be true. I'm getting better at noticing when my body gives me these cues and trying to unpack where they're coming from. A lot less hand-waving away, a lot more curiosity. Deep down I know a lot more than I tend to think I do.
Emotions, intuition, instincts. They're all things that we're taught should never, ever supersede the almighty power of logic. But they exist in us all for a reason, and my life has gotten a lot better since I've learned to listen to mine.