I am sitting here, doing work for my friend’s 15-minute fame and potential big break. Your success is measured by the number of people you made successful, I tell myself as an excuse for taking my attention off doing my own work.
My body is ravaged with strong and very unpleasant emotions. Mostly anxiety, doom, and grief.
I muscle test myself every five minutes if the feelings are mine. They are. I take my Heaven on Earth and continue working, but the bad feelings come back and take my breath away.
I catch myself wondering what it all means. Shall I stop doing the help to my friend? Shall I just run the other way? I muscle test it, and the test says “no.”