Stumbling blocks, we all experience them, moments in our lives that stop us from blindly moving forward in a straight line. Some can be barely perceivable, others a full-blown slap across the face, in any case, they force us to reevaluate which direction to go in. I choose to look at life as one of those tile puzzles, you know the ones, where one tile is missing and you need to keep moving the pieces until the image is complete. When I encounter a stumbling block, it’s time to move a tile in hopes of revealing its truth, whether I want to see it, or not.
If I really want to explore all the major stumbling blocks of my life, I would have to write “The World According to Groovy Gail” volumes I-XII, but I seriously doubt anyone would want to read something that lengthy, so I’m going to try to list the bullet points of what led me to write this particular piece.
- Going to school for theatre and film with hopes of becoming a screenwriter/film editor
- Mom dies and I lose my focus, ability to write and my scholarship to boot
- Back injury steers me in the direction of discovering my ability to cook well
- Cooking school, marriage, children, divorce, career change
- Empty attempts at finding love and discover I’ve been lied to for years
- Blogging, thoughts of podcasting, the world explodes
- Plagued with anxiety and self-doubt
- I plant a garden
Intentionally vague, but you get the idea, especially if you’ve been following my blog. Enough said.
So, March 2020 I bought a domain with hopes of using it as a place for a podcast to live. In a nutshell, 2PhatGirls.com has been sitting dormant since then. Of course, I’ve had to pay renewal fees, but I thought it was a good investment, just in case I ever really did something with it. However, in the past few weeks, I’ve been having my doubts about spending the money on something that, in all honesty, was not giving me joy. In fact, it’s been the cause of much anxiety, anxiety on top of all the other issues in my life giving me anxiety and well, I knew I needed to do something to change that.
On top of it, tax time is upon us and I’ve been trying to ready myself for the first year I will not have a dependent to claim. I’ve been trying to gather paperwork that might help ease the pain, which meant locating the receipt for the rewiring of the house. You know, that very important document that I was certain I had placed right there. Yeah, that one, the one I could not find. I went through my office several times and I simply could not find it. I reached out to my electrician, but that endeavor was fruitless. However, me doing so reminded me of his idea of what I should call my podcast if I were to actually do one. He said, since I have the gift to gab, I should call it “Gabbing with Groovy Gail”, food for thought.
I discussed this idea with my work mentor and he agreed, that I should focus on creating my “brand” and my “brand” is Groovy Gail, not 2PhatGirls. This idea was exciting to me and for the first time in a long time, the idea about podcasting was bringing me joy. I decided to have a discussion about it with my partner in crime, Ray. We decided that maybe it just wasn’t working out because on some level, the name was derogatory to ourselves and that is not what we are about. We set a date to do some recording and see where our conversation led us.
The day arrived for us to visit, I set up the equipment, following the directions I had compiled for myself, but there was an update to the program I used. Ah yes, the dreaded update and long story short, what was supposed to be a fun day recording with my friend turned into a heightened moment of anxiety and self-doubt. I had the program working for a moment and then I didn’t. She looked at it as well, but we were at a loss. Admitting defeat, we had lunch.
Later that day, I asked my son for assistance and thankfully, he concluded that it wasn’t me, it was the program. I would most likely need to uninstall it and reinstall it, but today was not that day. In disgust, taking it as a sign that I shouldn’t be doing this anyway, I dismantled the equipment and stored it away. I began to think about just giving it all to Ray or selling it, but I was not the person who would be using it.
Not hearing from my electrician, led me to believe that I would not be able to get a copy of the receipt from him, so I began my search once more. I went through every possible place I could have stashed the document, not once, not twice, but three times and I could not find it. I decided to give up and pray instead that the actual piece of paper would not be what did me in this tax season.
With money matters on my mind, I went into my domain hosting portal and took the necessary steps to cancel my ownership and supporting programs of 2PhatGirls.com. I was fairly pleased with myself that I had navigated it thoroughly and had achieved success in not being automatically billed for an annual renewal, I was wrong. The very next day, I received a series of emails informing me of my upcoming fees. I tried to email the company, but received no response. I was going to have to call them, but that would have to wait until my next day off from work.
On that day, I called the company first thing in the morning. As expected, I did not get connected to a human being, instead I was instructed to use a “prompt” word to allow them to direct my call. I said, “renewal fees” and was informed of a lengthy wait time. I tried to use the live chat box on their website, but I never received a response. About an hour later, I called again and used the prompt word “cancellation”. Apparently, that was the secret word because I was put through to a representative almost immediately. The woman I spoke to was very helpful and noted that I had not cancelled everything I was supposed to, but she would gladly do it for me. I thanked her for her assistance and asked, if it was possible to speak to someone about some dreaded updates my blog page was suggesting. As previously stated, I do not do well with updates, but as it turned out, she could help me with that as well. Woo hoo!
This woman was beyond patient and kind to me. I revealed how all of this tech stuff makes me so nervous and she informed me that I was doing better than her mother, she wouldn’t even touch the stuff. While looking at my page, she remarked that it looked “cute” and “interesting”. Well, for me, that was an open invitation to start gabbing about the work I had done and what led me to do it. As our conversation continued, I told her about my feeble attempts to record for a possible podcast and she shared some morsels of enlightenment that gave me hope about still being able to do it and add links to my current blog page.
We ended up talking about everything under the sun. I even teared up talking about the loss of my mother and how that stumbling block led me to a different path. At one point she remarked, how easy it was to chat with me and that in all honesty, she didn’t feel like she was speaking to a customer anymore, she felt like she was talking with a friend. I told her how much I appreciated that, because I am well aware of how much I can talk, but I’ve been working on being more engaging in conversation, trying to improve my listening skills, learning not only to be quiet, but to really hear someone and then respond. After an hour and twenty minutes, I thanked her again for her kindness and patience with me, but more importantly for how she had given me hope. Maybe, this podcast idea was something I could still do.
Later that same day, I had a meeting with my work mentor and told him about my phone conversation and some notes I had made about a possible blog I could write about the experience. After the phone call with the rep, I had written how stumbling blocks make me stop and think about changing my direction, maybe leading me to what I’m truly meant to do, who I’m meant to be. I told my mentor that I was looking forward to my therapy appointment that evening and sharing all of this with him. Maybe it would be an enlightening session.
As I set up my computer and waited for my therapist to let me into a chatroom, something caught my eye. I turned towards an envelope peeking out of the mail holder in my office, the one that used to belong to my father. I keep sentimental papers there, things I don’t use often, but would be heartbroken to lose, like the index card my father wrote about which poker hand beats what and my favorite Father’s Day card I had given him, thanking him for all that he had done for my kids and I, a card he amazingly didn’t throw away like all the others. On the envelope that caught my eye, was my handwritten name, but I couldn’t remember, I couldn’t imagine…no…what?!
I smiled as I opened the envelope, it was the receipt from my electrician. Are you kidding me? I was so certain I had placed it on my desk with the list of how I had to relabel my fuse box (or whatever you call that thing). I was positive I had put it right there, at the front of my desk and thought that somehow in a cleaning frenzy, I mistakenly threw it away. No, I didn’t throw it away, I just didn’t recall putting it someplace extra safe, someplace that doesn’t have a lock, doesn’t need a code, someplace so special and sentimental, but easily overlooked. A special place, always right next to me as I write about my trials and tribulations, my hopes, my dreams and nightmares, a place where I keep a little bit of my dad with me so he can continue to help me, without me even realizing it.
It was as I told my therapist this story and how I just found the envelope right before our session, I realized I had forgotten, I was supposed to be having fun. The whole idea of doing a podcast, recording my stories, thoughts, conversations was supposed to be fun. Just like the blog, it was never intended for profit or notoriety, I was supposed to be helpful. “Wouldn’t it be worth it, even if I only helped one person?” and that one person, is me.
I know many of you do not believe in the existence of anything beyond this dimension, but I choose to believe that just like my dad rearranging my pantry to get a rise out of me, he enjoyed placing some stumbling blocks in my way. The tile puzzle before me is ever changing. I like to believe that I know what the image is supposed to be, but in reality, I haven’t a clue. I do not like change, this is something about me that bothers some, but I find great comfort in staying right where I am. However, I feel the time is quickly approaching that a tile piece will be moved, either by me or someone else and a truth will be revealed.
The truth is supposed to set me free, right? What if I don’t like what I see? What if what I hear frightens me? While talking to the website page rep, I recalled to her the night I was deciding to purchase the domain for this blog and how my text messages to my kid prompted a phone call me out of worry. I knew that starting this blog, everything would change. I felt like the walls around me were melting, that the moment I pressed that button, the mirrors of illusion would cease to exist and my life would forever change. I know what you’re thinking, “Gail, stop being so dramatic. It’s just a fucking blog.”, but that is exactly how I felt. Maybe I’ve seen the movie The Labyrinth too many times, but I absolutely loved and totally identified with the scene near the end when she realized that the Goblin King had no power over her.
So, I guess what I’m trying to say, what I just realized at this very moment, my only true stumbling block is me…fuck.
#thelieswechoosetolivewith
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