Yup.. It’s been about a month–over four weeks–since the last time I wrote anything. That’s something that has not happened in a very long time. It could mean one of three things:
- Life is going really great and I have zero complaints, problems, grievances, or irritations.
- Life is so busy and or rotten that I’m too depressed to write.
- I really am nearing the end of what the writing life has in store for me.
Spoiler alert, I don’t think it’s one of the first two. I mean, I have been down lately and getting my ass handed to me by seasonal allergies on a daily/nightly basis, but that’s no excuse. Why would I not want to rant to the world about my latest wave of “existential crisis-ism?”
Truth is, I’m just really tired of the same old-same old. I’m so tired of my own broken record I don’t even want to be around me. For example, I could complain about my parents, the struggle I have on the regular about what I’m doing with my life, or my failure to write any new “creative” pieces in a while, but honestly, I don’t have the motivation for sifting through the doldrums of any of that. Maybe #2 is closer to being the reason than I think.
I wonder why life continues to feel more and more difficult even though I have less and less to worry about. I wonder if what I am feeling is depression or just another passing sadness. I wonder what it means that I’ve been thinking about updating one of my personal “tag lines” and can’t seem to find a thing that both fits who I am right now and also doesn’t feel like a lie.
Here’s what it used to say “I blog, I garden, and I take a lot of pictures of my cats. Sometimes I travel. But mostly I just write poetry.”
This all used to be true. But clearly, blogging is a lie (except now). I struggled to get my garden in this year and barely got it done before July and haven’t been back to check it in weeks. I haven’t taken any new pictures of my cats in weeks either. I still travel, sometimes, so at least that’s accurate but I have not written any poetry in a long while and certainly don’t have any new-ish poems that I feel are even worthy of working on more.
I’m just one big fat lie waking up each day, checking things off the to-do list, and going to sleep each night. I don’t look forward to things I should look forward to and I groan internally when something new pops onto that stupid to-do list. Why?
Why is it so hard for me to call an exterminator to take care of the spider problem in the craft room? Why do I NOT want to take a yoga class at the gym? Why does it feel like a huge pain to drive to CB to visit my parents or to reach out to my sister to see if she’s available for a visit when I will be in Denver this month? Why do I not look forward to gardening like I used to?
It could be the 90+ degree temps each day and the lovely reminders about global warming and climate change every single fucking week. Or it could be that I am seriously depressed. Maybe I need to see a counselor. Why would I carry the weight of the world inside myself? Why do I feel like it is my personal responsibility to reduce CO2 emissions? It’s not right.
There are 8 billion people on this freaking planet and I only get one precious life. If nobody else seems concerned about it… throwing spoiled food, styrofoam, and candy wrappers in the recycling bin… then why am I so concerned? Stupid humans!
I went to a poetry reading last night with a dude who talked a little bit about not writing and also being ok with that and also about just having fun. When was the last time someone said to you “let’s go have some fun” and you actually did? For me, it has been a long time. Do I hate fun?
What is fun? Is it a state of being or a feeling or just some nebulous word people use to describe experiences that should create joy inside us?
Fun is shifty and abstract. That’s too complicated. Remember when fun was simple? Walk out the front door and down to the schoolyard and waa-laa–FUN. What once was fun is no longer fun. So that’s at the root of my problem. I have not found any new fun in a while. If I no longer enjoy gardening or writing, then what am I going to do with myself now? What do I try? And how am I ever going to find the motivation or energy to try anything new?
See, this is what I’m talking about with the existential crisis-ness of my situation. And I don’t even want to be writing this either which causes quite a bit more self-loathing than it should.
I think I might just be done writing. If I say I’m done, will the Universe take that as a sign to throw some new shit my way to prove me wrong?…
I wake up tomorrow with a fever or monkey pox or pregnant. (Yes I did just lump having a baby with a terrible virus).
Let me just stop right there and say all of this makes even less sense due to the wonderful nature of how my week is going. I’ve been fairly successful at said “to do” list and things really are going my way.
For example… I waltzed into the red cross on Monday and donated blood without any trouble. 2nd time that has happened and I’m not sure how all of a sudden my body is cured of its low hemoglobin but it seems to be. I used to have to take an iron supplement for 10 days to two weeks before it would be high enough to donate.
Plus, I totally have my act together on TGLR stuff and even got ahead of the game today by paying our WordPress account off for another year. And what do you know? My little checkout bot “Honey” checked all the promo codes and got me half off. That’s $150 off which is pretty substantial. When is the last time you got $150 off anything in life? Crazy right?!
Last night, I woke up in the middle of the night worried that I let the sweetest gym membership deal ever (annual dues of about $85 bucks) lapse and that they would say I was out of luck. But when I went in, they said my annual membership had been extended through September and not to worry. I paid anyway just to get it off my mind and now I’m clear for another year. That’s unlimited classes and access to 5 gyms around town whenever I want for about 7 bucks a month). Crazy right?!
I’m also back up to 50 submissions in my Submittable account and even sent a new flash essay to a top-tier publisher (yes, it is the one creative piece I’ve worked on lately, but originally started about a year ago so it’s not new).
And speaking of writing… even though I’m not generating new stuff, I have 3 poems forthcoming AND a bookstore in Omaha finally got back to me about being a part of a poetry reading (Bookworm, August 20th, be there or be square). It will be the first real event since my book came out and just as good as any to try and sell some of the copies I bought for just such an occasion.
And… I’ve got two great trips coming up in August too.
So there you have it. There are many good things going on all around me, and I have much to look forward to. One might read this and think I haven’t blogged in a while because of reason #1 on my aforementioned list. But, I’ve still been down and all that just makes it even more of a mystery.
A mystery I don’t think I’m going to solve today. I’m three pages in and just spiraling around. I’ve got to quit now anyhow because Jim and I are going out for tacos tonight. Which also means margaritas. Which could lead to either an early night if I’m super tired or a pretty “fun” time. Maybe I’m trying too hard to have “fun” and just need to let “fun” happen. We’ll see.