The Losing Battle

I have recently been rejected for a community theatre production and had my writing rejected by a popular journal. So instead of sleeping as I should be doing, I am battling my feelings of inadequacy.

I have that feeling again that I am too odd and too old and that there is no place for me.

Nobody wants a 40-year-old has-been in performance or in print, a voice inside me says.

You have held me back for far too long, says another voice. Failure is a learning experience.

No one can create a well-crafted pitch on this little sleep, the logical voice cries. Perhaps I should add schizophrenia to my seemingly inexhaustible list of maladies…

And yet here I am, with seemingly displaced motivation. Wanting to write and having no place to publish. Wanting to sing and act with no place to perform. Except for the karaoke bar of course.

The crux of it? I need sleep to function at my new day job. I must drive as a part of my job. If you’ve read my thoughts about driving, well, ha-ha. No freeway, no left turns, no parallel parking. Because my anxiety has PTSD elements, likely from being hit so many times in San Antonio. It was less like daily driving and more like bumper cars down there.

So. Sleep it is. Or at the very least, an attempt at it. The battle starts afresh tomorrow.