Week 2, Day 4

Identify Your Identity Walk

Yesterday I mentioned about the 1 hours artists walk that was part of the task of uncovering places of encouragement as a child and how it effects you today. How people have told you who you are and just exactly how big you are allowed to be. Today I took my walk with the focus of my thinking shifted to my childhood and things I loved to do. As a small child I played the sports that my parents signed me up for because I was supposed to. I actually had no choice in the matter. In fact, I hated the competition aspect of the games. My older sisters were involved much more in athletics then I was, but after each game they would spend hours picking apart each player, the things they did and what my sisters could have done better. Many times these conversations would end in anger, frustration, and tears. The outcome of playing the games never really seemed that worth it to me. When I was finally old enough to play little league, I enjoyed it enough to want to join the older team. Which, in turn, took all the fun out of the game. The competitiveness was overwhelming and simply left me not wanting to try. I had no friends on the team and more often then not would end up sitting in the outfield during the innings. No one ever hit the ball to the outfield, so I was fine. I'd usually bat once a game and more often then not, strike out. I was never encouraged by my coach or any of the teams players to do better and I honestly didn't care. My parents had started going through their divorce and there were other things on my mind. Catching a ball or hitting one with a bat seemed much less important then the constant arguing that was exploding between every member of my family.

It wasn't until middle school that I realized I had a talent in the art department. We had a new art teacher that would encourage us to work on our own projects and allow us to create for the sake of creating. I remember the principle of my school asking if he could have a painting I'd done of an indian, and to this day as far as I know, it is still hanging in his living room. Towards the end of my 7th grade years, we had a program called middle school connections and I remember not really telling my family about it until the night of. I assumed that because it wasn't sports, my father would have no interest. To my surprise, he was angry that I hadn't shared it with him and ended up coming that night.

In high school I joined the drama club and took drama class. My parents would come to the shows, but I always felt that my father would only come because he felt he had to. My mother would come, but I don't remember her ever really saying anything good or bad about the shows. It was after her brain surgery and I think it was hard for her to sit through an hour and a half show. I remember my father always congratulating me and taping the shows. I never watched them, but I imagine that if I was to now, they would be rather funny.

Now, living in NYC, I did my first black box theater show a few months ago and my father and step-mom came to visit me in NYC and see the show. Afterwards my father congratulated me again and went on to tell me not to ever let go of my dreams. He told me that no one is ever better then me and not to think that way. He told me never to stop doing what I love and reminded me that it just takes one person to believe in you and give you a chance. It wasn't until this that I realized that my father didn't care of I played sports, or if I acted, he cared that I did something I enjoyed. He pushed for the sports to hard because it was something that he loved, and thought he could share that joy with me, his son. I wonder how different some things would have been for me if I'd listened to his support in high school. I wonder if it would have changed anything at all? I always took my fathers support with a grain of salt, and I should have allowed it to have more value.

Yes, all of this came into clear view during my walk today.

Morning Pages:

Check. I wrote another letter to God. It was filled with my dreams and goals. Hey, if you don't ask, how can you expect to receive?

Tomorrow I have to talk a small walk to think about my real goals and what steps I can take to make them a reality. Life is all about one step at a time, so maybe tomorrow I'll take another one in the right direction. Or, figure out a way to take more then one at a time and make my dreams a reality faster then I thought I could.