In Eileen Garvin’s debut novel, The Music of Bees, three lonely strangers grapple with grief and loss. Stuck in their own sadness, they’ve lost the will to connect meaningfully with the world.

Perhaps we can all imagine how they feel. We’ve probably stood at a fork in the road, paralyzed with indecision, unable to choose a path. Or, without understanding or liking the choices before us, we wandered down roads with no direction at all. Well, maybe that’s just me.

The main character in this book, a recent widow, has her therapist’s advice ringing in her ears. “Disrupt old patterns. Find a path out of the old way of doing things to forge a new one. It might feel uncomfortable, but the only way out is through.” These words imprinted on my brain.

Every morning for the past few months, I wake thinking of the day ahead as if I’m standing at a door I can’t walk through. I want to walk through it. I need to get to through it, but nothing I’m doing seems to get me to the other side.

Crossing Thresholds

Now I’m realizing disrupting old patterns may be the only way to launch me across thresholds and past doorframes. Sounds scary, but I’m working on it.

At the end of October, I applied to be part of a one-year mentoring program for emerging female writers over forty. I’m terrified of being accepted and I’m terrified if I’m not. I don’t know what my next step is if I don’t get in and as much as I want to learn and grow and share experiences with other writers like me, my mind swirls with self-doubt.

I wrote in my application that I always wanted to be a writer, but it wasn’t until 2014 that I gave myself permission to believe I had something important to say. It’s been a long, tear-filled, interesting journey. I’ve attended conferences, worked with professional editors, and made a few friends. But, every day I struggle with not feeling good enough.

About a month ago, I gave the second draft of my latest manuscript to a dozen volunteer first readers for feedback. I’ve only heard from two. I get it. Everyone is busy. It’s hard to find time to read, especially as a favor to an unpublished author you’ve never met, but the lack of response has me glued to the couch in fear. I’ve been hiding behind my kindle and Netflix bingeing.

Disruption

My pattern needs disrupting and I’ve set a goal to do one uncomfortable thing each week:

• Three inches cut off my hair. I probably won’t do that again, but it will grow.
• Rejoined a friend for workouts in her garage. I whine and complain and lay immobile on the mat when I get tired, but I’m there and it’s uncomfortable.
• Enrolled in a class designed to help me describe my manuscript in a succinct and compelling way. I don’t know what that’s going to be like, but since I’m having a hard time narrowing my plot to a brief, fascinating paragraph, it will probably be a little uncomfortable.
• Started cleaning my dusty cave of a closet, which is lined with unorganized shelves of rumpled clothes I never wear. That will take me months, but it’s a start.
• Stopped having the same breakfast every day.

Sometimes the things we experience—trauma, disappointment, loss—have us so mired down in what happened or what could have happened that we can’t move forward. That’s where I am. I don’t know exactly how to evacuate myself from my self-imposed prison of fear and doubt, but if I’m successful in finding my way through that door, no matter what happens on the other side, I’m choosing to believe I won’t be stuck for long.

Thanks, Eileen Garvin, this is one great line.

If you can relate to this great line, I’d love to hear from you! Please scroll down and leave a comment.

If you’d like to read more about The Music of Bees, click here.

If you’d like to read about me, and why I started this blog, click here.