My Block is Made Up of.... Writing Prompt and #5for5BrainDump Times 2

---

I wrote twice about this prompt - so far. It was an achy prompt - and it hit me unexpectedly. 

Strange when one's own prompt has this impact. I also wanted to look more closely at the first image I created without the words of the prompt in it, so I will post that one here, too.  It spoke more deeply to me than the prompt with words. 

Look into the face of this stop - no parking - support love - protest - small child looking stop sign and listen to what it says to you about being blocked and breaking free of block. Now. for my first five minutes:

​My block is made up of colliding voices and misplaced words of fear and dislike and misunderstanding.

My block is made up of trying to get “it” right (whatever “it” was) and not believing I ever could.

My block is made up of people looking at me with what I translated as embarrassment, dislike, disapproval, meanness, judgment or…

I notice my flow leaves when I try to find a “perfect” word to describe what is a feeling, an emotion, a memory of receiving that glare and not knowing what to do with it so as a result, constructive movement stops.

No more slapping of the sneaker on the pavement. No more heels clacking on the linoleum. No more laughter and conversational banter or collaborative change making or day dreaming.

Sucked dry by glaring. Vacuumed up by embarrassment, wishing for invisibility. Suddenly realizing what I was doing was labeled wrong and since my self-esteem (like many) is astonishingly low, I stop progress for fear of continued retribution, not yet willing to engage my inherent strength.

And then….. (part two is below and now that it has been overthrown I am almost up to smiling.)
 

​I wrote about block and got blocked.

It makes me wonder if going to one’s confessor makes one sin more: it just makes you feel bad and ugly and all that old garbage just floats up and damn, it feels bad.

I wrote about block and then did my Mom duties and felt bad about my Mom duties. Even my moments of tenderness and praising my son somehow made me feel like a less able mom when actually, having confidence in him is….

I remember when I went to girl scout camp and all my mother could do was talk about how brave I was for going to camp without any friends. I was excited to go on my own: lots of new people, a fresh start, and every time she praised me for it made me feel bad.

How could she not notice what I naturally enjoy?

I made that mean, “She doesn’t notice me,” which  was actually an assertion I strove for so I wouldn’t get in trouble, but what I also made that mean was, “She doesn’t care about me,” which I could never verbalize would naturally tumble into “I am not loved.”

Recently I read somewhere that attention equals love. That’s what many think. If you love someone or something, you pay attention it that person or that object of your passion.

When you are in a family of six kids, one expects not to be noticed which is why I sought being noticed elsewhere.
The gift of being able to go to Girl Scouts camp alone translates into being comfortable traveling alone, being comfortable doing most everything alone (although I would enjoy having friends along most of the time.)

It turns into a block when I make it mean all sorts of extraneous stuff it doesn’t mean at all.
Then there is that other side of me:

When people glare, are mean or belittling, I put on that “These people don’t know who they are dealing with” sort of energy.

That “I’ll show you what I can do!” attitude that is one of my trademarks.

I used this when I was in coaches training quite a bit. It brought me gifts of physical prowess (shocking!) and other successes and until now, though, I think my trainer's voice echoed in my ear and in my blocks when he said, "You can't do that" to me when I said, "Except, I know I am." burst from me. 

​ The “I’ll show you what I can do!” attitude is what fueled me to make calls to a local service agency today in attempts to unblock a broken piece of my story. This agency provided context for my most recent personal horror. I've been trying to reach out to them for some sort of fixing it or healing or at least entering into a conversation and their continued unwillingness to engage me in conversation is getting tire some.

It was attempting to work through this block that may have been what caused my resulting brief visit to the brick wall called the doldrums.

(All these words are an illustration of where the block may take you and the freedom of free flow writing which helped remind me of the multiple associations AND MOST IMPORTANTLY has helped me find and fuel the way out.

Standby, beloveds - for more resolution.

I am grateful for my stubborn nature. I am grateful for winding roads, dappled with shadows from leaf rich trees that remind me of home. I am grateful for people who do listen to take away the sting of those who ignore or who are so busy thinking of their next argument they just don't hear.
​
I am grateful, I am so grateful.

---