In the Nick of Time

“Press go.”

I was doing a somatic exercise in a coaching session recently, tears running down my cheeks, as I tried to get to the root of my resistance. It’s a threshold day /week /month /year. I have wanted to be a songwriter since I was 8. I now write songs and perform in local clubs. I’m even learning guitar - long story. People ask where they can hear my songs and for years I’ve been talking about recording and releasing them. There have been many external challenges to that but now I have some tracks recorded and great musicians helping me, all good to go. Still I resist.

In my session, where I’ve been talking about this for, oooh, a year or so, I was asked to imagine what it would feel like to have released a track. As we broke it down into small steps I choked up as I was told to “press go”. Pressing go means making the leap into a new version of my life, which means leaving the old version behind, which is terrifying. If I stay small, I stay safe.

In a year where my mother died, and I have sole responsibility for clearing and selling my parents’ house, there has been a lot of letting go. I cling to objects in the world around me, always have done. I cherish them. They have a solidity about them that wasn’t there for me growing up. They are proof of my existence and the truth. Shedding, shredding much of that has been exhausting. I don’t want the old stuff (it’s heavy) yet I am used to holding it. This baggage is a protective barrier; I carry it in a belly pouch, baby koala style, between me and the world. The final house clearance is this week.

I have written one song this year, ‘In the Nick of Time’. I built it from the ground up, starting with a bass and drum groove, added some keys and guitars, then the lyrics poured out. It’s raw. It’s mine. It’s not folk. I’m releasing it in two weeks. Press go.