Reflection from May 21st, 2012 @ Age 30
RE: SITTING IN THE DISCOMFORT OF THE CREATIVE PROCESS – WHILE IDEAS MARINATE.
God. This feels like the worst fucking day of my entire life. Back to reality! No surprise!
Today’s my first day back to work. Cooper’s getting a job offer for a manager position at his work today. More money, finally a manager, he’s waited a long time, good for him. Glad I was supportive of him the whole fucking way. Glad we keep our money separate and glad he won’t pay for more than ½ of anything even though he’ll be making even more money than me now, and he has no student loans.
God, it’s so depressing. I sent out my first query to that Jennifer DeChiara chick and I’m convinced now that everything I write is the most awful, horrible just fucking hideous shit you’ve ever seen in your entire life. It feels awful. I feel awful. I kind of wish now, I would just die too.
Ahh the fancies how they dance around in my head, deluding me into thinking that dreams could be possible. Fuck you David, for leaving me in the horrible world. I don’t know what to say. Tears rolling down my face, Anastasia just had her second baby and her husband graduated from somewhere with his fancy schmancy MBA, she has two daughters now, works for a bank, what the fuck do I care? Broken record. Ahh how some things do just never change.
I was just remembering how the other day, I can’t remember when, last week maybe it was—when Cooper and I were fighting and it ended with him screaming into my face that his illness was much worse because he was physically dying and there was nothing he could do but get a transplant. I guess that’s the way the world would see it anyways. I guess that’s why I hate this world. I guess that’s why people are still so goddamn ignorant as to mental illness. I guess that’s why I still need to be going through this fucking struggle trying to publish this god awful book. I guess that’s why I am going through all of this. I know there’s a reason. It’s so fucking stupid.
It’s almost now, like I can’t write anything new. It seems I’m just repeating words I’ve already spoken and I wonder what that means. If I’m out of new words so that means, maybe I’m supposed to be done writing now? If I’m on the edge of some big change occurring and once that happens, I will move past this impasse? I just don’t know. I don’t know what to think. I hate where I’m sitting today though. I can’t believe I’m going to be 31 in 30 days. Ahh. I don’t even know what to say. I’m just going to get ready and go into work. No reason to delay it any longer. Just have to sit in the discomfort. God help me. (Find some new words… ;0)
It took time to find out whether I passed the bar exam you know. I just had to sit in the uncomfortableness. That’s all I can do now too. I just have to sit the fuck down and sit in it. Keep working toward the goal, but keep feeling all this shit I’m feeling. It’s necessary. It’s necessary for my art. And so I will.
There’s so much he doesn’t tell me, sometimes I don’t feel like I know him at all. Sometimes I feel like I don’t even know me at all.
When it comes to searching for the truth, there are only two manners in which it may be had: from a head upon square shoulders or one amidst the mess of a bipolar. (Blech…but that’s the right idea Maris…) While both are similar in nature, the former is one of simple finite portions; but ohh of the bipolar…and her search for this world’s most hidden truths, …this latter method will show you shit you’d never thought to have questioned in the first place blah…
Hmm hmm hmm!!!
I feel like the guy in the allegory of the cave. I’m retraining my brain now to figure out how to live once more in between these two worlds. It sucks.
The curious incident…dog, autism – how to equivolate to bipolar and Cultivating Beauty?
There has got to be a reason for this illness. The universe could not be so cruel.
I’m gonna find it, swear to you now.