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Revisiting
Nobody tell Sir… I just spent an hour on Fetlife. No, I didn’t talk to anyone, no I didn’t go in any groups, no I didn’t read any threads or check any profiles. I was looking at my old writings that I had posted there. I had remembered a couple I thought to copy and paste here so I’d have them in one place, then I got caught up in reading… my own writing… It’s been years, and I hadn’t looked at it in so long there were essays there I’d forgotten I’d written.
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Fear
I had a few better days. Today was… shaky, and tonight it’s falling apart. I had therapy today and it was a particularly tough therapy day. We talked about writing, and talked about what Sir and I talked about the other night and… what I wrote, and my feelings, and what’s happening with my depression and my writing and my bipolar… I’m supposed to try to develop softness towards my fear. We identified that I’m afraid of writing, maybe afraid of seeing myself… because writing is… who I am inside, and I’m afraid of seeing that, and the fear is creating the wall, and if I soften to the fear…
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Let Off
Last night was hard. Â Sir actually had to do aftercare for me after it. Â Which is kind of hilarious now, but… it was stressful last night. Â And my period started today so I feel kind of crappy. Â BUT, haven’t cursed at anyone or burst into tears… so… maybe the keto period curse is lifted? So, anyway, Sir let me off on writing shitty first drafts tonight, yay! Â He says we’re back to it tomorrow night, which, ridiculously, actually made me so anxious thinking about it I literally started twitching (I get a twitchy leg). Sigh. There are things in life that have to be hard. This should not be one…
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Shitty First Drafts #2
Her ears are filled with the soft hum of the old computer tower, the susurration of traffic in the distance, and the rustle of the curtains as cold air whispers from the vent. Â And then with his voice, soft, gentle, but with an iron core of command. “Why? Â Tell me why.” “Because…” “Write it.”
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Why I’m Stuck
Note: Â This became a question/answer, except I didn’t write the questions (Sir was sitting here asking me questions and making me type the answers…) Â Sorry for the weird format. This is an on-demand writing… Â I’ve been sitting in front of the computer for almost an hour… looking at shoes… Â Sir finally came in to see what I was doing. Â Now he’s supervising me (so I can’t sit and look at shoes… I’m not even a shoe person! Â I literally own three pairs of shoes and wear one of them… Â but you know… Zappos!) So he told me to pick a prompt from a creative writing website and go with it.…
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Loneliness
I feel like… since I’ve been doing this “write every day, what a brilliant idea!” thing… I’ve felt, overall, a lot more… emotional upheaval, directly related to posting here. I have emotional upheaval all the time for other reasons, obviously, but there’s a particular flavor that is… this… daily writing. And it isn’t the DOING the writing (it was at first). It’s something else. And I’ve circled around it and poked at it, trying to figure out what it is, and I’m not sure I’m there yet, but I may have my fingers on an edge of it. I think… it feels as if… writing here makes me feel… lonely.
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Ignorance and Justification
Someone said something stupid on Facebook, today. I know… Earth shattering news, right? The thing is, it was someone I really thought was better than that. And she is… in some ways… and not… in this way. She chose to go into a topic that 1.) she really knew nothing about, 2.) she had a strong emotional response to, and between those two things, she did what… most everybody does about a topic they don’t know a lot about and have a strong emotional response to. She said ignorant things. Now her ignorance wasn’t just ignorant… it became judgmental. Again, because she had misconceptions. Again, because she had strong feelings. …
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Shitty First Drafts – #1
I had a dream last night. About her. I haven’t seen her in 10 years? 12? We haven’t spoken in 5… and that was just an out of the blue phone call.
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Creation
Depression sucks. Â It continues to suck. Â It sucks endlessly. Â Sir tried to help today (not that he doesn’t try every day). Â He dragged me out shopping. Â For groceries, but also to the art store where he bought be good markers (for my tangling) and two drawing journals (for my tangling). Â I ate pork rinds and macadamia nuts in the car on the way home (so much I didn’t eat any dinner) and Sir was annoyed. We sat out on the porch for two hours and I tangled all evening. Â I’m making progress. Â I’m seeing the potential for meditation, and the difficulty in my mindfulness. Â But I tried. Â None of it…
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Creepers
I got a friend request (on Facebook) the other day… from a guy… in another country (can’t remember which one). Had never heard of him, so I went to check his profile to make sure it wasn’t a friend and I just somehow didn’t recognize him at first. Profile basically say, “I’m looking for a wife” and has some pulled-off-the-internet marriage photos. So… not the highest level of creeping I’ve ever been creeped on, but… a little creepy. Every so often I’ll get a creeper on my blog. Probably more often than I realize it, but sometimes it’s pretty obvious. My host program gives me all the search terms that…