My Fucking Feelings: The Power of Announcing What You Want

Woodcat coffee shop in Echo Park.

June 13, 2018.

6:02 AM.

Woodcat coffee shop in Echo Park.

The warmth of today’s drip feels like liquor going down. My body is still thawing out from the morning motorcycle ride.

Radiohead fills the room.

I feel groggy.

As I switch from writing for you to writing for me. (Yes, you should always write for you first but you know what I mean.)

I was just finishing this article about noticing the subtle signs before they turn into red flags in a relationship.

Now it’s time to switch gears and vomit my fucking feelings.

There are three types of writing I do.

I get something different from each one.

Self-betterment blogs. Although I enjoy self-betterment blogs, this writing is technically work. I try to knock out one every other day. They are pieces of content with an intention to create a dialogue to help others and build following across social. In that order. I concern myself with how many likes and views I get and get discouraged when it dips. I believe I’ve written over 5,000 blogs in the last 10 years. No one’s got time to count them all.

Books. This type of writing is fairly new. I just finished and turned in my second book titled, “I Used To Be A Miserable Fuck, An Everyman’s Guide To A Meaningful Life”. Yes, I’m going to announce that title every time I mention my book. It’s as annoying AF but I’m not sorry. The message of the book means everything to me. This is a completely different type of writing experience. These aren’t pieces. These are projects. Big ones that involve a team. It’s more like making a movie. Editors, production, distribution, foreign rights, and pretty covers. I hope my books are translated into Korean one day so my parents can read them. So they know what I’ve been up to for the last ten years. And that I’m not a doctor. There are no typos in my books as there are in my blogs.

My Fucking Feelings. This is my favorite type of writing. Because I allow myself to just write, without structure or any intent other than to share my truth and current state. It’s a public diary. It also takes the most courage to post since it’s a direct conduit stabbed into my unfiltered heart. It’s actually a form of therapy for me. But also an exercise to be a better writer by splattering paint so I don’t fall into the trap of cookie-cutter writing. Note: If you’re a writer, I’ve learned that writing just to write in your most honest and truthful state, allowing your stream of consciousness to flow even if it’s all over the place and doesn’t make sense, like dancing like no one’s watching but writing as if no one will ever read it, will stretch you and make you better at your craft. You should do it at least once a month. I’ve started writing my fucking feelings after my divorce and haven’t stopped since. I recently created a public blog for others to share their fucking feelings.

There’s 69 percent left on my computer battery and it’s 7:12am now, one hour before I take a class to get in my daily sweat. If I don’t get that battery percentage in the single digits by the end of the day, I won’t feel productive. Radiohead is gone. Some weird shit is playing now.

I was thinking a lot about what I want lately. I know what I want. It’s literally written in my notes on my phone and I study it often. You probably do too since I write about my life so much. But I struggle with the announcement of it. I don’t mean that literally. I mean owning it. Accepting it. Not feeling guilty about it. Believing you deserve it. Scared about pushback and what others will think, how they will react if you put action behind your wants. Announcing it to yourself as well as the world/universe by embracing it and holding onto it with two hands. By drawing lines. By making decisions that may appear selfish to others. It’s easy to coach others with their journey and what they need to do to move past their blocks so that they can be happier and accomplish their goals. But it’s hard to look in that mirror yourself. It always is. I know that I need to get very clear on what I want but more importantly, stand on it. Tall. Not slouched. Or my wants will always be that, wants.

I admire people who put themselves first, not in a selfish way, but in a I will do me and everyone else will adjust because that’s all I can do and if I don’t, I will never be happy way. That shit is hard as fuck. Because you doing you is going to affect others being them. Because you doing you isn’t what others had plan for you. Because you doing you may fuck up other people’s blueprints. But I have to take my own advice and step up to my life plate. Or I’ll always be in the bleachers, watching others get what they want. I know this yet I’ve struggled with it for most of my life. I know and see very clearly what I want, especially now that I’ve officially entered my mid-forties. Fuck that sentence. Telling myself it’s okay and making decisions that line up with it is hard, something I struggle with.

But I guess the fact that I’m aware and notice the stirring is huge. Just the fact that there’s something there is a good sign. Because it means you’re not oblivious. It means you are looking inward. Because then all you have to do is feed and trust it and it will grow into your truth → reality.

So I ask myself what that looks like. To feed it. To feed the stirring. What does it look like to own and embrace what you want for you life? I believe it’s the first true step. The execution of this, whatever that looks like because it’s different for each individual, is the inciting incident, the call to action, the beginning of another hero’s journey. A new chapter. A new act break. The turning point. Or for many, a tipping point. And I feel like that’s what this may be for me.

I keep going back to this sentence, Everyone will adjust. Everyone will adjust. Everyone will adjust. And as I look back at my life, the things I was so terrified of always had a way of working out. No one died. The sky didn’t fall. When I told my club promoter we were selling the business, he adjusted. He wasn’t happy ← the daggers he shot at me years later when I ran into him at Cochella proved that. But he adjusted. When I was abruptly let go from a cushy job in a high end treatment center in Pasadena (LA’s Pleasantville) because I wanted to do things out of the box, I adjusted. I wasn’t happy and I was scared as shit but I adjusted. When I got my first motorcycle and my parents were upset and my dad kept demanding me to sell it, but I was already in my thirties so he was just talking to himself, they adjusted. I kept riding and they went on with their life. When I meet them today to share a meal and they see me roll up on my Harley, they don’t even think about it. It’s an old conversation everyone’s tired of. It’s the same with anything.

A change in any dynamic creates new doors. It allows people to grow. And maybe that’s what I need to underline. And bold. As I remind myself about owning my truth and announcing what I want in this life, for the remainder of my stay. I know that sounds dramatic but adding that passive aggressive ticking clock helps me. And I’ll take any help I can get.

But I hesitate and hold on due to fear and a desire to make people happy. Not wanting to rock the boat. Guilt. Guilt. Guilt. And here’s the other piece. By holding on, maybe I’m not being generous or giving as I think I am. Maybe I’m being selfish. Maybe not expressing my truth only hurts others or the situation. Maybe by me being me, I am allowing them to be them. Relationship or situation. Maybe by letting go, I am allowing the universe to unfold and reveal what it’s meant to reveal. And maybe that’s good for everyone.

The truth is people do adjust. They might not agree or be happy with your decisions, especially people close to you like your parents and friends, but they do adjust. Because they have to move on with their lives as you do yours. It’s not just about you. Your decisions aren’t going to impact as many as you think. You’re not everyone’s sun. Wait let me underline and bold that as well.

You’re not everyone’s sun.

And bring it back to me.

I’m not everyone’s sun.

As I sit with that and repeat it, it’s helpful. Knowing that although I am a whole person, I am also a piece, a part of systems. And as I adjust and evolve and follow my truth — path, others will as well. And life will go on, and everyone will find good, nectar, and lessons on their journey. Relationships may change. But that’s all part of it right, the big picture, the entire story.

If you hold on, not embrace and champion what you want, your story will always be incomplete.

Angry

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