tumbled

I feel like I’m in a damp daze... Not quite what I expected and not knowing how to proceed.

I expected that it would’ve gone one of two ways. Either I was to be liberated - my announcement to the family officiating my new direction, punctuated with approval, applause, smiles and nods of the head. And I would be all goggles on, rev up the engine and I’m all set and ready to go on my great adventure.

Or major guilt like a tonne of bricks weighing down on my existence as daughter. And I’ll have to run away as fast as I can so that I wouldn't look back and get drawn back into a life of mind splitting obligation.

It started off well enough. I started talking and didn't stop talking for awhile. And I saw that my dad was growing to like where I was going with it. He was even willing to support my schooling! Mom too. She was only concern with "the amount of time I'd be spending being around mentally unsound people." -_-

Then the barrage of questions - I knew this would come. It's why I took so long to tell my family that I was leaving the family business. I wanted to be so sure of myself that I wouldn't mind if my family didn't understand. Their opinion had always meant so much to me. But this time I knew that if I didn't hear my own voice and believed on it, I would never get anywhere with myself.

I tried my best to answer their questions, but I knew they didn't yet understand what dance movement therapy was all about. Their doubts concluded the dinner conversation. I was ready for that... or so I thought. I was advised to make my decision only after the twenty days.

But didn't they understand that I already had? Wouldn't they trust it?

For some reason, I felt like someone had closed the lid over my well, and this little frog is not ever gonna get out.

... I had the worse night of self-loathing. I started to recall every hatred I had against my dance, against my poor academia, against my garbled representation of who I am and what I want in life... that I'd never ever be good enough for dreams.

Thank God for stars. They bore down on me that night just to remind me I was still loved by my Father God.

It's been a few days since the conversation. Mostly I've been trying to collect myself because a lot of self-doubt had started clawing its way in. Did I hear God right? Am I on my own agenda? I hadn't fallen prey to such thoughts in a while.

Dad and I hadn't talked since the conversation either. He seems to be really busy. He doesn't seem to expect anything from me now. I had wanted to talk about the plans for the company with whatever remaining time I had left. But we hadn't. And it troubles me, because I don't know what's going on in his head.

He's just got to know that I wasn't abandoning him. That's all I want him to know.