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Growing Pains

am begin to peel back. It’s not an intentional process, nor is is at all comfortable, but it’s happening and somehow through the discomfort it feels necessary. I had the urge to chop off my security blanket hair on a whim. As if that wasn’t enough, silly as it seems, I dyed it bright purple. Some might call it a mid life crisis, I am not feeling like I’m in crisis really, that would be extreme since I am healthy, as is my family, I have more than enough and I surely have the privilege of being loved. I do know better than to scream crisis, however, something is going in inside of this 39 year old and it’s scary to sit and write about something so very vulnerable, but here I go, short purple hair, shaky hands and all!

My birthday was at the very end of May. For some reason this particular birthday has been really uncomfortable for me. I just wanted to skip over the day,and keep on with my 38 yr old status. Still, it was coming, and fast. I kept telling myself it’s just a number Kim, don’t be so indulgent in with this feeling, still I was. It felt like a weight and it pressed on me and I couldn’t identify why. It wasn’t about vanity or mortality, it was just a discomfort that parked itself inside of me. A few days after my day, I went out for lunch with my girlfriend. I was still in a major funk, carrying around this #39 behind me. I shared my feelings with her, I knew she could feel it anyway, she’s like that. I shared it all with Vanessa, every emotion, the confusion, the discomfort, the embarrassment, all of it tumbled out. She said,”Kim, this is what you need to write about,this is real and human and being real doesn’t come in a pretty box.” Well, there is definitely no pretty box, but here it is anyway.

So I turned 39, so what right ??!! Still, I shriek even writing the number. This silly number has thrown me into a tail-spin of sadness. I have been forcing myself to tell people that I’m 39 because I think that if I say it enough I’ll feel more comfortable about it and my blues will turn into ” I’m 39, awesome!!” Nope, not happening. After my heart to heart with Vanessa, I sat down and just wrote whatever was coming up inside of me. Why am I feeling this way? What is it that I am afraid of? Am I the only one who feels this way? Is there something wrong with me ? Am I ridiculous? As I furiously wrote, I realized that in another year I will be 40, which is kind of a half way point. O.k, I was getting somewhere. I could feel my mortality in the distance. Have I done enough ? Have I left my mark ? Have I made a difference ? Am I proud of myself ? There is such a long list of what I want to succeed at and dig into. Music is at the forefront. I love it, it fills me, it lights me up. The reality is that at almost 40, trying to really achieve anything significant with my music is almost impossible. I think of someone like Madonna… Her giant success began in her early 20’s and so at 55 she can continue to pursue her music to whatever level she wants. She can do as she pleases musically because she made the cut. I am a mother of 4, who essentially started pursuing my passion of music 9 years ago. I have not been approached by a record label, I do not have producers coming to me, I do not have a music manager, and my mastery is only in the beginning stages, and… 40 is coming really fast !! ( yikes) I have all these things stacked up against me, and the fact that I am not getting any younger overwhelms me.

I have continued to write and learn, record and go out and bravely perform. It’s been expensive and time consuming and I have virtually made no money doing it, still I keep on, because I love it, deeply. I have no real desire to be famous (I can honestly say that). Sure, I have my little fantasies, but they really stay in the fantasy zone. I write and record because I love it, it feeds my soul, and makes me feel very much alive. Is there a part of me that would like to make some money doing what I love? Sure I would!! That would validate me and I guess I am looking for validation outside of myself to make it all make sense. Separate from that, and on a deeper, truer level, I write songs because it feels like I’m getting out what’s true and dear inside of me and sharing it. I like that feeling. Music has always done that for me from the time I was a little girl, it seems to connect me to myself. It feels personal, yet connected. Maybe this is why I am so passionate about this expression. I guess the upset inside is separate from this love of mine. Its not the music that I don’t believe in, it’s me. My version of believing in me is someone telling me I am talented, signing me to a record label, publishing deal or and getting me started on my album. That sounds like a big fantasy- a huge stretch, but I think the desire for this is the external validation that I have accomplished something that the world views as worthwhile, because I don’t always believe in me. I do, however, believe in the music that I write and that I love and how it moves me inside. That is rock solid, because it’s rooted in love. It’s my own insecurities that make me want to quit what I love and stick my head in the sand. Why can’t it be enough to view passion, drive and genuine love of something a worthwhile measure of success ? Why do we need the outside to give us the stamp of approval ? I can apply this question to a number of areas in life. If I base my worth in my love of music on what others think, then doesn’t that mean that I am actually giving away what it is that is dear and true to me ? You know, every time I am getting ready for a show, even if I have prepared for weeks and know I’m prepared, I still nervously ask my husband “are you sure that I sound good because I don’t want to go out on stage and make a fool out of myself.” He says the same thing to me every time, “you are going to be great,have fun and I believe in you.”

Well, there it is… He is the perfect reminder. The person I love and respect most is validating me AND sharing the most valuable lesson of all…to make what I love and am passionate about be enough. It is enough, it really is.

Ok, now I can say it… 39 is awesome !!!!!!! (Well, let’s say it’s getting there…)

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