I once heard a quote from a famous writer that said, “The best writing comes when you’re doing dishes.” I quite agree.

I have this morning routine that I do starting at 8:30AM or thereabouts. (My inner alarm clock isn’t always so precise) Once I get up, I start to boil the eggs in the water, I do my morning yoga, I then reduce the heat on the eggs and let them cook as I tidy up the flat just a little. Then I make my tea, defrost my frozen fruit, cook two strips of turkey bacon, cool down my eggs, and then proceed to write my morning pages. Just random bits of useless information of what I’m thinking, what I need to do, or how the world looks at just that moment.

This is all I know for sure each day. The rest is a surprise, including when, and if I write.

My morning pages has been the only kind of writing I’ve been able to force out lately. If I sit down to write an article my mind becomes blank. I can’t thing of one interesting thing to write about. This has been rather embarrassing to admit, after all, I am a writer. I should be pumping out novels each day!

Today when I woke up I wasn’t sure if I’d do any real writing. I started in on my morning routine of cooking the bacon and my mind started whirling of different article ideas to write . Not now, I thought, please brain just wait a little! I’m in the middle of making breakfast and you’ll just have to wait until I’m finished!

But my brain didn’t listen and the thoughts kept coming. Instead of grabbing a pen right away I hesitated. If I sit down now to type it, will breakfast survive? What about the tidying? What about…? Then I stopped myself. My purpose in life isn’t to sit around making the worlds best tea (although, that is a gift I do posses) or making sure that the dishwasher is loaded perfectly. My purpose is to write. And that should come second to none.

So I sat down and started to type away, clicking the keys so fast it almost made music. And I didn’t even mind that my tea was just a little too strong this morning.

I’m so unsure about all this. Agnes says* that is a sign of an artist. She should know.

I did my morning ritual and then tidied the flat a bit. After that I felt that today was the day to start to learn to paint again. I absolutely love watercolour paints, the only problem is, I don’t know how to use them.

I opened up my book and started to follow the instructions. Paint a moon, a heart. Do a colour wash, blend these colours. One, two, three.

I followed the instructions. Only my moon looked like a big blob, my heart didn’t look like a heart, my colour wash was all washed into one murky colour and I was counting negative numbers. Not what I wanted to happen.

So I emailed Chris. Actually I whined to Chris.

To: Chris
From: Alex
I cant paint. I’ve been trying that book and all I do is ugly stuff. I hate it. I hate that dumb ass painting book. Maybe I should just go back to the office. I know how to collate.

To Alex
From Chris
you can’t expect to become Van Gogh overnight. It takes lots of practice, practice expressing yourself in that medium. Every time you paint you get a better idea of what you like and what you don’t, how you express and how you want to. And the next time, you do it just a little bit better. But, up to you.

To Chris
From Alex
IM just frustrated because I don’t even know what I want to paint or express or how or anything and I feel stupid because I want to and I cant and im angry and frustrated and I hate my 5th grade teacher. Damn her.

To Alex
From Chris
I think, the most important part is that you can’t use your brain. You have to disconnect your brain. Your brain is the part that judges and second-guesses and has all these hang-ups from 5th grade teachers.

The brain never really creates anything anyway, it just thinks about things. The heart/soul is where the creativity comes from, that element that can’t be defined, that can’t be measured or duplicated, that makes us who we are. But normally everything always passes through your brain first, that’s how we do things like hating someone but stopping ourselves from cussing them out, because our brains keep us in check and allow us to function productively with the rest of the world. But creativity isn’t about the rest of the world, it’s about you, and so you have to figure out somehow how to turn off your brain while you’re creating, or Maybe not turn it off, but just let what’s coming from your heart go past it without being judged.

You have to let what’s coming from your heart go straight from your heart to the canvas, or the paper, or the keyboard, or the camera, or whatever it is you’re in the mood to do at the moment. I think that’s the most challenging thing, and it takes practice, and it’s frustrating because we’re always told to use our heads.

I think once you start doing it, Maybe in little bits at a time, it gradually gets easier, and if you can force your brain to turn itself off — which takes discipline — then after a while you realize you’re actually creating and freely expressing and it becomes a habit instead of a chore.

To Chris
From Alex
I know what you’re saying is true, but its hard to listen to it. I’m afraid of being wrong or being proud of something and somebody saying its ugly. And I’m afraid of always painting like I’m 10. And I also feel like because I left a corporate job to be an artist, that I should be an artist right now, not take time to learn. I feel like I’m a slacker when I learn.

After that exchange I felt a bit better. I decided to put away the watercolours for the moment and take out my camera instead. I fooled around with it until the batteries went dead. And as they sat charging up, I took the time to do some more writing. 1PM and I’m feeling productive, this is good.

To Alex
From Chris
I know you want results right now to prove that you were right. But you may not get results that make you feel that way for weeks, or Maybe even months. You have to just have faith that it IS within you to do it, and you know it is, and I know you have it. As long as it is there, it’s just a matter of figuring out how to let it come out, how to express it and let yourself express it. That’s the challenge and it may take time to retrain yourself. Some days you may feel you didn’t produce anything at all, that it was lousy, a waste, and you will lose faith. And on those days, I think you just need a mocha.

I got an email from a friend this morning. It stares at me, waiting for me to reply but I can’t. I don’t know how to answer her question because it seems too big. Yet all she asked was “How is your first day on the job as a freelance artist?”

I could tell her it’s overwhelming and that I don’t know where to begin. Where do I start? Do I paint, write, think, create, eat, put on lipstick?

At age 27, I have had more jobs than any 27-year-old should really have. None of them have really mattered and I never really became a part of the company. However, the job that I have chosen to leave was the first one where I had made a huge difference and had created a lot of friendships. Saying good bye was hard, especially since I was unsure that leaving was such a good idea.

Going in to work this morning, I was quiet. This, you should know, is a rare thing. But I wasn’t sure how today would turn out. People were still finding out that I was leaving and I was a bit defensive. I didn’t think I’d get support or even kind words or that anyone would notice when I slipped out the door for the last time.

Never underestimate what happens when you choose to live your dream. I understand that now.

At lunchtime, a huge crowd gathered to throw me a surprise going away party. Everyone from everywhere had come out to say good bye and toast to me. They sung silly songs, said stories about me, hugged me, and some actually got very emotional. I was overwhelmed by all this and not prepared. Especially for what people said.

Over and over I heard them say, “You are such an amazing person. I’ve never known anyone like you. If anyone has the means to make their dream come true, it’s you. I believe in you. I know I will be reading a book by you someday.”

People told me how I had inspired them. People told me how much the enjoyed having me around. How I created such a good atmosphere. How I listened, how I was terribly, terribly cheeky. I never knew what kind of impact I had. Each time someone spoke to me, I was humbled and shocked.

Not one person ever said a negative word – they all believed in me, and believed in any future success. All their happy good luck vibes had such an effect on me it was the boost that I needed, and it made me feel that I’m on the right path. Now, I knew that what I was doing was right. If all these people believed in me, it was time to believe in myself.

On the way home, I got off my bus an hour early and walked the rest of the way home. I took out my camera and slung it over my shoulder. On my way home I transformed. With every step I took, I let go of every secretarial skill in me and started to look for photographic moments and things to write about.

With every step home, I said good bye to Alex the Executive Administrator and Hullo to Alex the writer.

It’s only been one week since everything started. One week. It feels like an eternity. I have flipped my world upside-down. I have given up security, sanity and life as I know it. And right now, I’m not too sure what to make of it all.

The first weekend in April, my husband Chris and I took a train trip to Vancouver and stayed overnight for a little getaway. That’s when I came to the decision to quit my job and become a writer. I gave my notice of resignation to my boss, the president of the company, and he told me too keep it quiet. He said to me, “I’m not sure what to tell people why you’re leaving.”

“You can tell them it’s because I’m going to write.” I said.

“No, that doesn’t make sense.”

All week long I wanted to take my resignation back. I thought, What the hell am I doing? I’m really good at my job. I actually like a lot of people there. I make a lot o money. I can buy anything, go anywhere and do anything. I contribute to my savings. I have a place to go everyday. Why am I walking away from all this when I have no idea what I’m walking toward? I was filled with such self-doubt, it was almost unbearable. The euphoria I had felt over realizaing the need to live my passion was short lived. I wondered if I was making the biggest mistake of my life.

On Friday the 13th I drove alone to Vancouver. I stayed with a friend, a woman who could help me find my center. She’s 57, very creative, extremely interesting and completely compassionate. She listened to me talk about my uncertainty and then advised me over a mocha and popcorn, “to give it a try.”

“If one does not succeed, that does not mean failure,” she said. “Look at all the wonderful singers and artists that are out there – some made it big, others did not, and that does not mean that they failed. They lived truly, and that is never failure.” I realized that I’d be an unhappy executive, no matter how much money I’d make. I have to be happy in what I do. There is so much to do and see and WRITE.

“Go for it. If you don’t, you’ll grow old and say, “‘I should have.’” I hugged her, filled with new resolve.

Then I returned to work. Today, word got out to the senior managers that I resigned last week. The president has told them to keep it quiet for now, despite the fact that this Friday is my last day. My boss thinks that if word gets out that I’m leaving, morale will get even lower.

The doubt came back when he said that. I’m good at my job. I’m central to the company. The employees I supervise and manage think I’m the best boss ever. Can I really tell people, “Sorry, you’re on your own?” I started to feel guilty.

The senior managers approached me throughout the day and asked why I was leaving. “Are you getting more money somewhere else?” they’d ask.

“No,” I said. “I’m going to write.”

“Write what?”

“I’m not sure right now.”

“What? You mean you don’t have a job to go to?”

Eventually, most of them were really supportive. I got the sense that they wished they could go chase their dreams too. But for now the transition is awkward. There are a lot of people I haven’t told yet because I haven’t been allowed to, and I know their reactions will be negative. Some people have a hard time dealing with other’s success, ambition, or happiness. Jealousy can be a real bitch.

So for now I’m just finishing up work, processing reactions (both mine and others’), and basically trying to get through each day. It’s hard. Living your dream is really hard work, which is why, I suspect, most people do not live their dreams. I’m not, however, most people. I’m going to chase mine – hard. Even if nothing big ever comes of it, I have to try. I have to know.

I’ve asked myself all the “what if” questions this past week like: What if I don’t make money? What if I get lazy? What if I end up like so-and-so who has talent but sits around all day afraid of the world? What if I really don’t have talent? But I figure the only what if question that really matters is: What if I don’t try this?

What if?

I feel the overwhelming need to tell you “Thank you.”

I came in to your bookstore yesterday, just like I’ve done many times over the years when I’m confused. Yet in all the times I’ve come in, I’ve never seen you there. Today was the first time I can recall you being there and for whatever reason, I knew I had to speak to you.

However I was afraid to approach you because what you do is silly and something I’ve never participated in. So instead of going over to you right away, I circled the bookshelves for half an hour. When I somehow mustered up the courage and asked to speak with you, you looked at me and sat me at a table in the back. We meditated for awhile and then you handed me some cards for me to shuffle. The first thing you said to me was, “You are struggling with your career.” I didn’t say anything and then you took the cards and began to read them.

What you said shocked me. You knew so much of what was going on. I never said a word while you spoke, and that’s why I now feel the need to fill in all the details for you.

Growing up, there wasn’t a lot of money because my father was in a job where he never knew when money would come in. This uncertainty scared our family and I learned that security was a very important word. Even though it was never directly said to me, it was implanted into my brain that I must have security and never do anything to jeopardize it. I never realized how much that idea had affected me because I would travel on my own, have lots of jobs and never worry about being rich or having lots of things. But I realized that my life reflects the insecurities and thoughts of my parents and that I really have been struggling with what the word security means for years. You told me that my ideas of life were formed before I was seven, and looking back, I think you were right.

You also told me I had a lot of pain as a child – that there were a lot of struggles and hardships. There were. I never talk about them because I don’t like to remind myself of the negative and try to remember my life as though I were dancing to music the whole time. You told me that these struggles took me away from my passion. How did you know that?

You see, in elementary school I was tormented, a lot, by teachers. I would always ask questions that they didn’t have answers for or look at something from a different angle. A child shouldn’t have thoughts a teacher can’t understand or talk about and I did. I frustrated them. One teacher in particular was very cruel. She would rip up my artwork and tell me I must have cheated or traced or copied because I didn’t have talent to create naturally. She would tell me I was stupid and my writing was bad and she should fail me because I couldn’t spell donut. I fought her the entire time saying she was wrong, but her words affected me on an unconscious level. I went from being a creative, talented artist and writer to failing art 3 times in 3 different art classes in high school and losing my confidence.

I stopped wanting to a writer and an artist.

Instead of pursuing my love of the arts when I went out on my own at 18, I took took odd jobs around the world that weren’t my passion but paid the bills. I didn’t hate them as they served a purpose like you said. I lived in many different countries on my own and travelled and these various jobs afforded me the ability to continue my travels. They also kept me fed and put a roof over me. I thought if I am living in exotic lands than I’m really not being practical but instead daring. Besides, I thought, it wasn’t so bad because each job was better paying and more important than the last one and I actually did learn something from each of them.

I found out later how much I really had learned and how much of a purpose all those jobs really had when three years ago I travelled to America and ended up meeting my partner. When we got together we had nothing – no money, no furniture, little food and two pairs of socks. Instead of remaining that way we took a chance and moved 2500 miles to a new city. With all my previous jobs and acquired office skills, I was able to get my first high paying, salaried with benefits job and support us. It gave us the security to get what we needed. It helped us with immigration, it helped us get a couch, it helped get groceries and it helped us get more socks. The only thing my corporate job didn’t do was help me. That really bothered me because I felt that I was losing myself and didn’t know how to find me. But I thought that’s how my life is now. I have to accept that. Other jobs just don’t pay the bills or give us big savings or give respect.

The other thing the job did was make me seem responsible and mature to my family. This was important as for years we weren’t on good terms and there was a long period I didn’t really speak to them. You knew this and said that I had recently in the last couple of years tried really hard to get connected with them again. That’s true.

When they heard that I was an “Executive Director” with a big pay cheque and loads of responsibility, they were proud of me, thought I had finally settled down and was “on my way.” I was finally acceptable in their eyes and I had begun to build a really nice relationship with them which I didn’t want to jeopardize by admitting I might be something else. So I kept going to work everyday, not really being happy but thinking that my current job was OK. I thought as far as office jobs go, I have it made. But it never felt right and in the past several months I started to really get this nagging feeling that I need to listen to my heart because it was trying to tell me what I need to do. I kept trying not to listen, however because I thought, “I am on a path, I am doing something productive, I have security. I can’t change course.”

There are few things I know to be true, but the most important one is that when you don’t listen to your heart, you suffer.

For the first time in my life I started having severe panic and anxiety attacks. I had heart palpitations and migraine headaches. I couldn’t sleep because I would cry silently all night. You told me that I don’t want to take a pill to solve the problem, that I need to know the root cause of it. This is true. I knew I was in trouble and that just popping Prozac wouldn’t end the sadness, just mask it. I knew I had to do something about what was happening to me but I felt that I couldn’t. I felt trapped.

I wanted to give into my passion of writing and creating, because you see collating, stapling and typing memos are not my passions. Writing is. That’s the one job I’ve always wanted to do.

However I kept telling myself I couldn’t quit my corporate job because that wasn’t practical. Writing was just a hobby and I wasn’t good at it. I tried to forget all the people who ever told me that I had affected them in a positive way with my words. I tried to ignore the fact that I wanted to really be useful somehow, and that writing makes me feel that way. I told myself if I quit my job and act out on my passion that I will lose the respect of my family. I’d let people down, I would fail, I would be selfish in a negative way, and I wouldn’t be responsible anymore. I told myself if I quit my job I would lose everything I had tried to build. I tried really hard to remain a corporate girl.

But the anxiety and sadness had become worse over the past two weeks. I would miss work one day and go home early the next. I was cranky, angry, depressed and scared. I was slowly breaking down.

My partner suggested that we take a weekend off, to relax and unwind and let go of the stress. When I left for our trip that weekend all I could think was how Monday would be here far too soon and I’d be nothing more than an office girl all over again.

On that trip, however, I saw you and we spoke. I don’t know if you what you do is real or you just guess at what the cards say so you can take people’s money, and I don’t care to ever know. Real or not, you saved me. You talked about a change in my career, about my passion, about my life. You told me that I was in a career that hurt me and it would end because after all these years of uncertainty I finally knew what my passion was. And that if I acted on it, it would be magic. I would be beneficial to people and get recognition. That if I trusted my passion, the universe would provide.

You told me I had so many people that supported me and loved me. I didn’t think I did but you made me realise that I do. I have 310 letters from strangers saying thank you to me for words I’ve written – and that’s just the ones I’ve saved. I never realised that was support but I see how it is, because when I read what they’ve said I feel strong. You told me that what I have to say is important and I need to say it. You told me my career served a purpose at one time, but it doesn’t now. You told me that I try to come across as responsible because I don’t want to jeopardise my relationships and you told me that if I’m true to myself, the right people won’t leave. You told me that people tried to make me think and do from the intellect, but that that I have slowly been learning to accept that I think from the heart and that if I continue to think and act and write from the heart, I will succeed.

You told me all this when I never said one word to you. You said so much more, but I am too overwhelmed right now to remember the details of it all. Listening to you was a very emotional experience because you validated my passion and you gave me permission. You told me what I already knew but needed to hear.

After we talked I went for a walk with my partner and sat at the beach where we talked for over 3 hours. It was the first time I ever really expressed my wants in writing. I’d been afraid that if I wasn’t a “responsible, corporate girl”, I’d fail him & our dreams. He said that by not listening to myself, I was failing the both of us. He said I had a gift and it’s time I listen to my heart.

After that, we walked to a little store and I bought a pen and a notebook. I wrote so much from the heart last night – this after having terrible writers block for months. I think what I wrote last night was some of my best work yet. It just poured out. It was real and natural and I smiled the whole time the pen was to paper.

On Monday, I am going to give notice at my job. I am not going to be a corporate girl. I am going to trust the universe and be a writer.

If I succeed even a little, it will be enough. And I thank you for helping me to see that.