Saturday, March 25, 2017

Miles to Go

I've slept a total of nine hours in three nights. I am exhausted.

I must journey to Burley, ID this morning to drop my daughter off with her dad for Spring Break. Thank God I'm not driving. Coffee is my friend.

I'm ready to jump in with both feet into the dark water. Do I think a shark or a scary clown is lurking somewhere in the depths? Most definitely.

That's the hard part of writing about my past with mental illness: though I am pretty open, I do have a great deal of shame and embarrassment regarding certain topics. I have saved them for "The Book." The Book has been in process since 2009. I have started it and restarted it. It has no primary sense of focus, as much of it was written directly post-hospital. When I was still highly paranoid but wanted to preserve some of the lovely memories I made.

I am fond of having mid-life crises, it has become quite the hobby of mine. I search for purpose daily. I wanted to go back to school to be a teacher, but hearing about the stresses faced by some of my teacher friends made me doubt that decision. So now I am left knowing one thing: I was not meant to clean up after other people for the rest of my life. It's certainly not beneath me but it makes me weary. 

I am still determined to write for a living, though working a day job has taken a lot of the living out of me for the time being. I am still terrified of failure, a hallmark of my OCD. But if I don't write and I don't continually submit I'll never get anywhere. Part of me is determined to find a full time job so I don't have to worry about paying the bills: another part of me is screaming, live your dream. Take risks. 

Quit being such a pussy.

And focus. And practice, practice, practice. This I'll-write-when-I'm-inspired nonsense has got to stop, I must follow the example of my successful writer friends and WORK ON IT. Not only that, but figure out how to reach a broader audience. Follow the examples of your idols: David Sedaris writes five hours a day. I'm lucky if I write for five minutes without distraction. Or incredible self-doubt.

And the reading has got to commence as well, damn the depression. Pretend you're in college and it's required reading. Make yourself read for an hour a day. Quit wasting time. Navigate the everyday stress without falling apart or into a coma. You've got this, as your sister would say. Beeeeelieeeeve in yourself and stop with the self-destructive self-deprecation. 

As for the pitches and the websites? Figure it out, you're not a complete moron most of the time. Set goals. Don't be afraid of rejection. View it as learning, not inadequacy. 

I could go on and on, but I'm going to mercy-kill this line of thought. 

I've got places to go.









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