Prompt Response: Tether & Struggle
Holy Wow. These prompts really freaking work. Why am I still surprised?
This is Prompt #196 in a series of daily journaling prompts that I share on Instagram, Facebook, and TikTok. I’m working on a YouTube presence, but it’s under construction and the chick in charge (me) is somewhat daunted by the prospect of taking on yet another workload. Huh. I’m glad I put that info where I could read it back to myself. It just unlocked something in my brain-y thing. It tingles.
Back to the prompt series, the point of which is to build a collection of journaling prompts that anyone can tap into when the muse takes a vacation. They’re not just for Daily Pages; they’ve been used to stimulate fiction, creative non-fiction, personal narrative, poetry, all kinds of essays, and even song lyrics at least once.
Side quest: Check them out on Instagram or Facebook or TikTok. Follow me somewhere and reduce the amount of hunting you have to do for things you like in any given day. Or just wait for last week’s set to be delivered to your email door for free on Sundays in The Week Ahead edition of this newsletter. If you want next week’s journaling prompts, become a paid subscriber and I will throw the set onto your email porch every Monday around 100am.
Back to Prompt #196 - Tether and Struggle. This one is timely because I am tethered to a struggle that has held me back for decades. It’s anchored in a wall of belief so deep, the other side is shrouded in the mists of memory.
Backstory: [scroll down for the actual Prompt Response if you want to skip this part].
The beliefs I have around this struggle started forming way before I was aware of them. I’ve been doing a metric shit-ton of conscious, intentional work on clearing this issue from my psyche and my life for at least 15 years—and it does feel like shit, that is 100 percent the appropriate word for it.
My intention is to put things in words so they can go up in flames with the Temple next month at Burning Man and free me from the push and pull of one identity over the other. I have done the work to design and manifest a new identity, a new set of beliefs for myself concerning this issue, but the old one grabs at me and new me is not always the victor when we wrestle.
The old identity is cruel and cold when she wins but she pouts and sniffles when she loses. Soft-hearted fool that I am, I wrap her in compassion when she loses, and in that way, she wins all over again.
The struggle is real. I know in my bones that I need a big, dramatic release, a physical sign of tether snap. I need to release her, my old self, into the heavens where she can let go of all of her worry and care - because that is what her bundle of toxic beliefs is anchored in - and float freely into another realm of experience.
Oh geez, how I needed to put that last part into words. I’ve been so afraid of releasing this demon into the world where it could plague others. The idea of doing damage to others by settig her free has been haunting me and holding me back.
Writing it out - getting it out of the murk in my head - makes me realize that this is not negative energy. It’s nurturing, protective energy intended to keep me safe. Good intentions misplaced, that’s all. The world needs more nurturing and other people do need protecting from this specific problem.
Her advice, her beliefs, are needed. She is not a demon. Her existence, reincarnated in the smoke, will drift back to Earth and benefit others. But not me.
This epiphany is freedom. This tether to an old struggle is about identity, that’s why it’s been so hard to shake loose. Identity change, adaptation, evolution – it’s the hardest thing for humans to take on, regardless of how willing we are.
I’m getting there. I’m getting so close. I can feel it. I’m writing a burn book. A book of burns, a book to burn. And the fire will consume it. It has to be in writing, though, because that is the best way I know to let go. Completely. Finally. With finality.
What I wrote today, in my Daily Pages, in response to Prompt #196, has moved me from the outskirts of organizing my thoughts to the inner reaches of my understanding. I was far, far back from the edge and now my toes dance at the precipice, urging me to fly.
Keep reading with a 7-day free trial
Subscribe to Live/Write Balance to keep reading this post and get 7 days of free access to the full post archives.