Truth be told, my head has been massively preoccupied lately. A few weeks back was Birthday Week and to say it was a disaster of epic proportions would be an understatement. But here's the kicker: I allowed it to be.
My heart was slightly deflated (not broken, no one has that power over me) and my spirits dashed. Someone close to me shared some news that I was not expecting and as a result, left me incredibly embarrassed, sad, reeling with anger at myself for not being smart enough to know better, and brick by brick, rebuilding my emotional wall.
But you know what's worse? I haven't written a damn thing since then. Not one word. I allowed this person to have such an effect (is it affect or effect? I never know...) on my energy level, my spirit, and my creativity, and that makes me even more sad, but this time sad for myself. Commence pity party. *throws confetti*
However, since I'm nothing if not a trooper, so help me God, I will be okay. I keep telling myself, "Give it one more week and you'll feel better." Then when that week is up, I repeat it. Sooner or later I will feel better, less like the fool, and more like a woman in charge of her own life.
What really bothers me is how supportive some of my friends have been, but I've been too consumed with self-hatred and sadness to really hear them. So friends, if you are reading this (and you know who you are), I love you and will mend all broken fences. You have been trying to drill the truth into this thick skull of mine and it has likely been frustrating. But I'm listening and composting on it. Please trust that.
As a new Campaigner (see this post for more info), I've been making the rounds and supporting people in my group. I was fortunate enough to come across Margo Berendsen's blog, Writing at High Altitude. Her recent post entitled, "Don't Play it Safe" hit me right in the gut. She quoted from another blog (you following?) one of their unusual writing tips:
Relate to people. The past decade has totally sucked. For everyone. The country has been in post-traumatic stress syndrome since 9/11 and 2008 only made it worse. I’ve gone broke a few times during the decade, had a divorce, lost friendships, and have only survived (barely) by being persistent and knowing I had two kids to take care of, and loneliness to fight. Nobody’s perfect. We’re all trying. Show people how you are trying and struggling. Nobody expects you to be a superhero.You hear that, self? "It's okay to tell people you are trying and struggling." It's okay to be imperfect, to be emotional, and to be human. But it's not okay to be mean to yourself and to judge your own sense of worth against ANYBODY else.
One more time:
NOBODY EXPECTS YOU TO BE A SUPERHERO.
So that's where my head has been. In an effort to feel better, I am clearing this weekend of plans. I'm picking up Season One of The Last Airbender (yes, the cartoon) from the library, stocking my fridge with brain food (strawberries, cream cheese, bagels, toast, good coffee, salad, Jameson), and will write this weekend.
I will turn off my internet access while I'm writing and will listen to classical music.
I will forgive myself now for not doing all my chores.
I will write something.
I will not cry.