Even Late In The Game

I have been commanded, by more than one person (ok, maybe two or three) to get it in gear and write something. WRITE something! they have said. Write SOMETHING! they have said. Well. The truth is that I want to write something. But I have been working - and working a lot. On what? you may ask. I will tell you On what?..

Everything.

Remember when I lost my jobs? I ceased to be a personal assitant for anyone. I had already ceased to be a photographer in demand. So I had no career. But I found a career. Me. My life has become my career. I have spent so much time working for money and working for other people. I do headshots for a dime if someone cries poor hard enough. I do publicity stills for free if someone uses the magic word benefit. Hell, I even went back to my former employers home and did the laundry and housework for free just because I love him and knew it needed to be done.

But it became time to focus on doing some things, not for free, but for me.

I began chanting again. I put myself back on my diet. I started going to the gym again - at first for forty five minutes (and in tears) because that was all my body could handle after so many months off. Then it worked up to an hour, then ninety minutes, then two hours. I am now spending three to four hours a day at the gym - sometimes at a time, sometimes in two or three trips. I have started learning yoga and this week I start my classes in martial arts. I began to focus, once more, on what I love - health and fitnes and (especially) MY health and fitness. And being pretty. Because I am superficial but at least it is superficiality aimed at myself.

The work I undertook wasn't just on my body. I began focusing on the lessons I have been learning this year. I began focusing on my spirituality and my psyche. I began cleaning house. Cleaning MY house, the Stephen Mosher house. I learned to stop hating myself. I learned to forgive myself. I learned to begin letting go of the damage done to my self esteem by my relationships with others, including my father, my other relatives, the people from my past and my gay brethren. I admitted and accepted that I am worthy. I accepted that the role I was born to was that part named "struggling artist" and I am OK with that. Maybe it will change in the future but for now, I am fine..just fine. Whatever comes next, comes next. That is the adventure.

I have been learning how to break it down and work it out. Why, only today, I was at the gym. I had done ninety minutes of cardio and I was deliciously sweaty (I happen to love the sweat - I see people at the gym who need the fan turned on them while on the treadmill; NOT ME) and feeling proud and feeling jazzed from the endorphins. Pat and I started a hard back workout and about twenty or twenty five minutes into it I suddenly got angry. I filled with hatred and anger and doubt and self loathing and it was affecting my ability to lift the heavy weight. Pat asked what he could do to help and we talked through it and I broke it down and I started to feel better. Just then one of the HUGE and INTIMIDATING female trainers (pro body builder) came over and GRABBED my calves!! She said she just wanted a LITTLE of them for her own! Then she said she couldn't wait to see me dancing in the Gay Pride Parade in two weeks. I told her I wasn't dancing this year and she pouted. God knew I was feeling down and why I was and God sent me some love and some reinforcements. God and Pat and my ability to talk it out got me back on track.

I have learned how to be happy.

I was on the massage table and my massage therapist (one of two I see regularly) said "are you happy?" Yes. "Are you taking pictures" Yes, when it comes my way. "Are you taking pictures in a way that makes you happy?" I thought about it and I told him:

My happiness is not dependant upon my photography. My happiness is not dependant on my work, my finances, my acceptance from others or any other outside source. My happines lives, now, completely within myself.

I couldn't believe the words were coming from my lips. I couldn't believe it had finally happened. After a lifetime of unhappiness mixed in with happy moments, I had .. I HAVE .. learned how to be happy.

If one adds insult to injury, then one must add compliment to care. I wonder if my learning to be happy has, directly, affected this - BUT..

I recently had a physical. The doctor pronounced me in perfect health. Not only am I in perfect health (well.. they DID discover an inconsequential heart murmer and a congenital birth defect in my heart that, at this time, is also without consequence), with all my tests coming back with a clean bill of health, but my arthritis has been pronounced in remission and my chiropractor and massage therapist have noticed a change in the tension and knots in my left back (a longtime trouble spot). I am, though, waiting for the results of an MRI that the ear doctor did to check out my head - but I am confident that it, too, will yield good results.

I don't know how all of youse, out there, are doing. But I will say this: if you haven'd discovered happiness yet, it is worth the trouble to find. I am hoping to nurture it and make it last forever. It feels THAT good.