As I've started looking back over the first six months of the Mission Accomplished coaching program (www.productivityforperfectionists.com), I not only realized how much I had accomplished, leapfrogging over many past perfectionist hurdles, but that in the portal that we have for recording what we've thought and done, where we can comment on the other members' reports (for lack of a better word right now) and receive encouragement and comments from the others, I saw that this is where I have been most authentic in terms of examining my creative life, with other women whom I have never met, from the U.S. to Great Britain to Nigeria, and that for me the almost daily reporting has kept me accountable and that has led to a torrent of productivity that is bringing me back to life after the long hibernation after Wes's death. It's not that I wasn't writing for the past 6 years, it is more that I was just circling around the trauma of losing him. Until recently it seemed like a closed circle, where I wrestled with God over Wes's loss, taking the same falls without apparently learning very much.
Beginning with a poem I wrote for my son, which was the first poem I had written that had no shadow of grief over it, I began to explore gratitude as a gate to healing, I began a poem called "The Gate" that then was transformed into "Portal," which eventually became a 15 page chapbook that I submitted to a contest recently.
But none of that would have happened without Mission Accomplished.
One of the most useful things I learned is that I can use little bits of time to accomplish goals. I had a talk to write for the Beginning Experience Weekend, and I wrote some of it while waiting for a doctor's appointment and the rest while I was at home and my daughter was nursing her baby. The perfectionist in me would want to wait for the perfect ambience, the right amount of time (a great deal) and the perfect mental attitude. Instead, I just plunged in and wrote, and figured I could always edit later. The main thing was to get the words on paper, and I did! When I decide to jump on the horse and head off, it almost always results in something worthwhile.