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| I got this from Allie, over at Show & Tell. She inspired my post |
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Sometimes we read to escape and sometimes we read to obtain knowledge, we read to be informed (I think of this kind of reading as work), sometimes we read for pleasure (crazy I know, but honestly one of the main reasons I read is to be entertained.)
Sometimes what we read is exactly what we need to read at exactly the right moment. I know this is true for writers and probably designers. Creativity does not come from a vacuum, generally speaking. We need to feed it. As a writer I write better when I am reading actively. As a creative person, I work best when I am around creative energy.
Lately, I have come to the conclusion that I have been fighting a couple losing battles and I will say it out loud, I have not been myself. Have I been depressed in the classic sense, no. Have I been moving slowly and certainly more or less uninspired. Yes. Now I suspect that most of the people around me have been painfully aware of this fact. My editor noticed it when I submitted my last piece for the Naked Sunfish. A few friends have hinted at it.
It came screaming at me the other day-- I am overwhelmed, not tackling things in my usual way and frankly I can see as I emerge from this dark period, that um, hello, I was busy grieving and ergo not creating.
In keeping with this challenge, I will list 5 things I am or have been afraid to give voice to:
1.
Sad-- I covered it above. I have been lost, sad, creatively uninspired or if inspired unable to find my voice. Newsflash-- I am still kinda sad. Maybe one stays sad for a really long time, I don't know. I feel the creative urges getting stronger, but I think I left more than my mother behind that rainy day at the cemetery. I really wasn't ready to leave her. I wasn't ready for her to leave me. I wouldn't have wanted her to stay and suffer, but I really wasn't ready to say good by either, despite what I told her that night as she struggled so. I told her it was ok for her to go, because that was the right thing to say. However-- I wasn't ready and I am not happy about it at all.
2.
I have a freaky and sometimes debilitating auto-immune disorder of unspecified etiology. I also don't like limitations. I like to think of my self as a human supergirl. I have always pushed hard, to be my best, to be the best. I am competitive sometimes and I am by nature and perhaps by nurture a hard worker. I tend to give 120% whether you want it or not. Anything worth doing is not only worth doing perfectly, but flawlessly. I also think there is no situation you cannot prevent with enough planning and proper execution. It might be said that I am sometimes a freaky perfectionist. (Ok you don't have to agree immediately, you could mull it over already.)
Recently I read this blog post:
The Spoon Theory.
Understand, I am not nearly as sick as the author of this post, but it resonated with me all the same. I know alot of people do not like this blog post. I really don't care, the bottom line is it spoke to me.
For my birthday this past summer, my mom and spent some time together. I knew it would be the last birthday we had. She had gotten me a vintage owl sun catcher. He is really adorable. She did not feel up to an outing.
My mother is partially responsible for some of my perfectionist tendencies. She also has been the voice of unheeded reason for a long time. She made me promise that I would take care of myself. Stop pushing, live within my physical limitations.
I hate it. I am afraid you will think I am lazy or unmotivated. I am not complaining and I know there are a ton of people who are worse off, but the reality is sometimes I feel like a Mack truck hit me, or I ache all over, or my tummy is royally pissed, or I am getting over my tummy being royally pissed and taking it out on me for days! I hate feeling like you will pity me or think I am a hypochondriac. My biggest fear is you will think "it is all in my head." Some auto-immune disease others can see, they are written on the skin, mine is inside and hidden and I fear being thought of as lazy or crazy.
It is hard for me to admit that I am physically unable to do all the
things I want to do. It is hard for me to admit that I really do need at
least 8 hours of sleep to function. It is hard for me to admit that I
have to now plan my time wisely and that I cannot operate in the super
hyperdrive I would prefer to operate in. Nope. I have to plan ahead,
sleep wisely, eat wisely and live within my limitations. Did I mention I dislike limitations.
This reality means that for the moment, a full-time job and the full-time mostly single mother gig are indeed mutually exclusive.
3.
I do not like beets. I know, I am a super foodie and a health nut, but frankly I do not like beets very much. I also do not like mashed potatoes or potatoes much at all. I will east sweet potatoes, but honestly just a baked sweet potato is as boring as a baked russet potato. I am likewise not a huge fan of turnips either. (Or mashed cauliflower for that matter.)
It is a texture thing. Truly it is.
4.
I can't seem to finish a novel. There I said it. I have two half written novels, both of which I think are good stories. I want to finish them, but I haven't. Every time I think I have an idea to carry me thru I stop. This summer I am going to try, try to finish one of them.
I know many writers think their work isn't any good. I know people struggle with this all the time.
But I am afraid to admit that I steam ahead and then lose focus. Maybe I need some accountability or maybe the story just isn't ready to be done yet. I don't know.
5.
You do not get the whole truth here. I know I talk about truth telling and transparency and make no mistake, I am not lying to you. That said, you get an edited and a "what I feel comfortable posting for the world to read." version of my life. I am always honest. Many of you reading I know (which sometimes makes it harder, actually) but many of you I don't. There is a real balance between what is public and private. What I am comfortable putting out there and what I would prefer to keep to myself.
Sometimes when I meet people, who have met me through Twitter or my blog, think they really know me. They don't. They know a little part of me. The part I have decided is ok for people to get to know. My readers can stay anonymous, I the blogger am not.
