 It was almost exactly a year ago this week that the shizz finally hit the fan in my marriage after a long, painful build. I look back on that time in my life now and wonder how I survived it in one piece. My best guess is that it was a mixture of unwavering love and support from family and friends, my own tenacity and a healthy dose of grace. Whatever the recipe, I am so grateful to be where I am today.
I don’t want to disparage my ex unnecessarily, but there were moments last year when I felt like I was cast as the tortured lead in a trailer park soap opera. It would be an understatement to say that this little suburban white girl was not at all prepared for that particular brand of crazy.
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 If I had started this blog a few years ago, I would have used it as a venue to bitch and complain about all of the people, places and things that pissed me off. At the time, there was no shortage of all three.
Sure, my poisonous thinking might’ve produced some entertaining prose, but all that soul-sucking pessimism really accomplished was to feed my overall unhappiness. Today (thank God), the cynic in me is dead and buried, and I don’t want to use this space to resurrect her. My life is VERY good, and I attribute that primarily to an overwhelmingly positive attitude and an optimistic faith that everything, ultimately, will be OK. All that said, I have been dwelling on one particular nugget of negativity so much during the past few months that I’ve decided to write it down here in the hopes that I can finally LET. IT. GO.  Anyone living in our fair city the past few weeks could not avoid at least an indirect exposure to college basketball. The national notoriety and solidarity that’s resulted from the University of Louisville teams’ success has been a fabulous boon for my hometown.
And I gotta admit, on a personal level, hopping on the team spirit bandwagon was a lot of fun. I was invited to a gathering at a local watering hole to watch the Final Four matchup between the UofL men’s team and Wichita. Going into it, I could have cared less who won. I was only there for the pizza and camaraderie. I wore red just so I wouldn’t get jumped in the parking lot, but I had no intention of losing my voice over a damn game. And then, tipoff.  I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the groundwork of starting and building a business. Understandable, since I’m kinda in the middle of the building part right now.
I’m pretty secure about the services I’m selling – the marketable skills of writing, editing and media relations consulting. But when it comes to the back-end of actually running a business that’s financially solvent and in legal compliance with the IRS and other government entities, I’m not quite as confident.  In the past few years, I’ve become reliant on my own personal brand of spiritually. It is a necessary part of my survival. As a result, I’ve started to pay serious attention to what the universe is trying to tell me.
You can dismiss that kind of thinking as new age horseshit if you want, but being open to signs – and actually heeding them – has made a huge difference in not only my overall serenity, but also the basics of daily living. I have no doubt that these signs have been out there hovering in the netherworld all along. I’m just now starting to perceive how they apply to me. My journey of self-discovery (you can read about here and here) has led me to chase my bliss on every level, personal and professional. In the process of doing that, I’ve developed a solid connection with a higher power – God, Great Spirit, whatever you want to call it. And I have found that the God of my understanding always gives me what I need exactly when I need it. |
About Amy HiggsA former newspaper columnist, Amy takes her random, slice-of-life stories to the web. After 12 years, she's still just saying. Archives
September 2020
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