I've been an idiot. I've had more than enough free time for writing--five or six years ago I would have sold my left arm to be where I am today, minus the illness. I'm much better physically than I was, albeit still a long way from 100 percent. I'm good enough for this, and more of that, and yet here I've been avoiding it at every turn. The words are inside. They've just been shaken up, and I think it's high time I started reorganizing them in a fashion both you and I can understand.
Instead I've been using my "good days" to do the cleaning, to rearrange the furniture in my new apartment at least two or three times, cook almost elaborate meals, and "rest", if resting means watch the stupid Biography channel and fall asleep on the couch for an hour a day. None of this is getting the job done. At first, I thought I needed the rest to feel better. Now I think the rest and the idea behind it has its hold on me. So I'm going to limit that. I'm going to reassess this writing thing and remind myself that every day I have something to say.
I know, I know. I've said this before. It's been a struggle, but when my doctor suggested that I have suppressed anxiety, then tried to feed me little pink pills so that I'd begin to suppress it in a more healthy way, it made me think. Even as I started the pills, I thought perhaps if I try to dig a little deeper, and began to face my fears rather than suppressing them, well maybe, just maybe they'll go flying out the windows and disappear for a long, long time, if not for good. Because really, very few fears are rational ones. I'm sure I'm smart enough to know the difference if I were to look at them straight on. I also know that what happens in my head and heart is of value, and not to be medicated away. So I stopped taking them after a week, some nausea, and a panic attack that made my chest feel like it was going to explode.
Finally, 12 days after the new year began, here I am. Fears and all. In the spirit of de-suppressing, I'll name a few.
I'm afraid that my parents are unhappy, and I'm afraid that one day either I or someone I love will have a fatal wreck. I fear the doctors, because I don't think they work for me anymore. I'm afraid that people think I'm inherently evil, which makes me wonder and sometimes fear that they're correct. I can trace this to the source(s). I'm afraid that I'm in the wrong place at the wrong time, yet I'm afraid if I changed any of it I'd be throwing away the best thing I'll ever experience, and the closest thing to true love I'll ever know. I'm afraid that it's not a true love, but a nice one, and I'm afraid that it really is true, but I just don't know it. I fear that I'll never play music again. I fear that I'm a writer who doesn't write, and that nothing will ever come of it, even if I try. Even though it already has, and then sometimes hasn't. Some days I'm afraid I'll have trouble sleeping at night. Other days I'm afraid that I feel sick because I have some undetected, life-threatening illness. And then I start to fear that I've brought it on myself simply by way of fearing it.
Today is just the beginning. In fact, every day is just another day to begin again. No amount of rearranging the furniture could have helped me see it as much as this past twenty minutes of rearranging the words. How could I have put this off for so long?
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
![57 Octaves Below the Middle C Buzzed by the Bee [Or Really] How I Lost This Place](http://www.goodreads.com/images/nocover-60x80.jpg)
Verbal, mental and physical cleansings are a must and don't worry, you're not evil. We all do things at one point or another but the difference is some of us show remorse and some don't. The fact you care enough to reflect it upon yourself means you're not only capable of change but you're doing it as you write it.
ReplyDeleteI think art is as different as the people who create it. I could go for months without writing just because I have the time but when I'm super busy and have seconds to spare, I'm jotting down ideas on scrap paper. You're a writer, this is just how it goes and you'll get there. Personally I think you need a good dose of fiction, fantasy and hobbits but that's just me:) Instead of writing about what you know..write about all the shit you still don't know about. Are there really skwatches in leominster state part? Try to stop thinking about where you're going and just keep going..eventually you'll arrive somewhere and then finally understand the journey~ Non medicated Cara is cheesy...sorry:)