Who Needs A Tiara?…

9:10 AM

Who needs a tiara? Evidently me. According to The Fixer, accessing my “innate nobility” is part of the process of dream realization. Can you see my left eyebrow raise?

She pronounces me “The Duchess” and aims to relabel the blog “The Duchess Diaries.” Hence the tiara, which she forces me to wear and takes photos for proof. Even my little white cat raises an eyebrow at two grown women prancing about the room with a tiara. Pfft.

tiaraShe explains what she sees. And it’s not pretty from her point of view. I must always be in control. So? I must keep it together. Is there a problem with that? And that I allow myself neither frivolity, freedom nor spontaneity. I fail to see how a little planning ever hurt anyone. And, besides, Advisor Girl–rules are there for a reason.

That’s why we don’t wear white after Labor Day. Don white shoes after September and you deserve serious side eye from any self-respecting fashionista who knows her way around a runway.

It’s about remembering who you are, who you were and refusing to allow yourself to be defined by circumstance, in my case that life imploded. The answer to that is, “So what, happens to a lot of people. People die everyday” Bitch.

She adds, “No one cares that your husband died, especially in business.” I know she’s right. But it has become comfortable inside my little ball of fear. The first step is the hardest. Another thing resonates, “You’ve paid your dues. You can have everything you want.” And, in this moment, sitting on two overstuffed chairs where I used to face The Norwegian, I believe her.

I squirm as she tells me I was able to have the things that make me feel secure because of The Norwegian. “You may have had that because of him. He allowed that. Now you don’t. You just don’t. But you are wrong if you think it’s gone. It’s still inside you.”

“He is inside you, otherwise you would not resonate with him. You think he was the strong one but that part of him is inside you. You were very lucky to have a partner that brought your many parts forward but that is not gone. His providing for you was only one thing he did. It wasn’t just in him. You know how to do this. It’s not gone.”

“Your job now? Let it come out and walk around.” She makes little walking in a circle moves with her fingers and I fight back tears.

It is heady stuff to think we can have what we want. It is energizing. It is freeing. She cautions me that writing is a public world and if that is the dream, I must let people in.
What if I don’t want to? “How badly do you want change?” Yikes–thwarted again. She wags a perfectly polished nail my way.

“Allow them in. Show them where you write. Your husband died. That story is out there. Now let them journey with you. I’m going to take you to hell and back and in the process you are going to write it all down–and share it.”

“You will have a different perspective, a different value on what you perceive. You will not be afraid.”

Can I get an Amen and a Halleluia chorus? Pass me my damn tiara! Girlfriend, we haven’t even scratched the surface.


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