I get so frustrated sometimes. You know? I've gotten over the part where I beat myself up over wasted money, but now I'm really frustrated by all the TIME that I've wasted. Time wasted watching TV. Time wasted procrastinating. Time wasted doing heaven knows what.
And they aren't things I particularly even care to do, I think it's just habit and of course, it's often easier to do.
Things I wish I spent more time on. Writing. I used to have a knack for words. Poetry spilled out of me. Letters to friends and loved ones were missives ... now... well, I feel like I'm likely boring anyone who bothers. Heck, I'm boring myself most of the time. Forgive me for still writing -- but practice and habit -- maybe it'll bring me back to where my words mean something once again.
I used to feel so inspired! Now, mostly I just feel tired. I'm tired of picking up the same messes DH leaves behind. I'm tired of getting caught up in peoples petty annoyances. I'm tired of feeling bored with my life, and I have GOOD life! I'm just not doing enough with it right now, and that's a shame. I am not working right now, and I know that's part of my little blueness, but it's also a grand opportunity. To write! To draw! To paint! To create! to learn a new skill. To put a puzzle together and frame it, to write letters, real letters to loved ones.
AUGH! Why can't I just DO IT! Am I SO undisciplined that I can't schedule myself an 8 hour day of living!?
This really, really bothers me, but I'm afraid that every time I say I'm going to do better about it, the redundancies and mundane tasks of life interrupt and then I just fall back onto the sofa and watch that darned Erica Kane on All My Children, or I end up on the computer spending an hour or more filling out freebie forms.
Somehow, I have to do better by myself. I deserve it. Freebies are fun and All My Children is mindless, but they don't REALLY matter in the end if my mind is dulled and the art has died within me. I just have to wake her up again. The one inside who once whispered to me in my dreams. The one who was inspired and FELT so much more. The one who wept and laughed and smiled and hugged and loved--daily! The one who read and wrote and played! I want to meet her again within myself, to draw her out. I deserve it! My husband deserves it! And frankly, she's a lot more fun to be around!
And I know that I just have to do it and not let this hope die as I dream tonight. I have to clean the house tomorrow, but she has to be a part of it. She has to be invited, and she just has to show up for me. I have to know that "she" hasn't abandoned me the way I abandoned her.
Heaven help me, I need her.
Where is the One I used to be?
August 28th, 2006 at 03:33 am
August 28th, 2006 at 03:43 am 1156736600
Jacquelyn
August 28th, 2006 at 05:03 am 1156741421
August 28th, 2006 at 05:18 am 1156742303
August 28th, 2006 at 07:18 am 1156749491
If you find yourself uninspired at first, put on some kind of epic music, something very sweeping and intense, it really helps to shift your brain over into that "otherness" that the best writing comes from. And do it before your soap comes on. Who knows, you may continue writing all the way through it.
As for poetry, it tends to come back with pain, so you may have to wait a bit on that score. Although it has been known to pop up with intense joy, also. Just rarer. Hang in there, make the time for it, and it will come back.
August 28th, 2006 at 01:47 pm 1156772828
I believe she has you write Daily Pages, too, which might be great if you need to jumpstart your writing.
Believe me, I know what you mean. And I know I'd feel better if I started taking time for Artist Dates again.
August 28th, 2006 at 02:34 pm 1156775699
But I am right there with you. Ithink you stuck a nerve with many with your very honest, insightful post. Thanks for sharing!
Now, go do something that aligns with those desires!!!
August 28th, 2006 at 04:32 pm 1156782769
I had some odd dreams in late June, and opted to spin some features of them into a novel. So I wrote, or rather typed 220+ pages on my word processor. And my depression lifted, and I got a job. Apparently writing a novel, from beginning to end, planning the characters, staying in their voice, plotting elements of suspense really is an accomplishment, published or unpublished.
Is it that you find scheduling hard? Or is it that life is so routine it's hard to be inspired? Maybe a getaway or something to make your head work a different way. I'm undisciplined too, and I wish I weren't.