Friday, December 30, 2011

That Man's Got My Gun!

I need a good kick in the pants. Well, maybe not an actual kick in the pants, because that could lead to damage, and for the most part, I like my pants. No, I need a figurative kick in the pants. And I need it in several areas of my life.

So, I quit my job. You know, the one that gave me money for the hours I thought about the novels I wasn't writing. Now that I'm home with hours to spare, I'm not writing. Do I have a good excuse?


Okay, well, I was just in a car accident (several weeks ago) and I got sick (a couple of weeks ago) and it turned into bronchitis (last week), but up until this point, coughing hasn't made me incapable of using my fingers. I'm just being lazy. Or difficult. Or difficult in a lazy fashion. I don't know. Whichever way you look at it, I'm not writing and I should be.

What gives?

It's not that I can't write. I just don't want to. I can sit here and make myself write, but it doesn't end well. You could argue that anything is better than nothing, but I have high standards. I can't write crap. I won't stand for it. And while people have told me that what I think is "crap" is actually better than some final drafts, to me, it's crap. And I just can't have that.

I also want to go back to Colorado. But now that I don't have a job, I'm afraid that if I go, I won't come back. That's a little awkward. I mean, I came back once because I had a job and stuff waiting for me here. But now I don't. And my family has told me multiple times that if Colorado will make me happy, go to Colorado. So, why the hell am I not going?

I have no idea.

And I don't want to write.



Monday, December 12, 2011

Journey to a Standstill

So, I have decided that I have no idea what I’m doing. Not that I decided to get to this point, though, I suppose in a sense, I have. In four days I will be voluntarily unemployed, living at home with my parents for an undetermined amount of time, without a car. And as pathetic as that all sounds, it might be the smartest thing I’ve ever done.

In the last two months, I have taken steps to gain control of my life. And it’s not that someone else was in the driver’s seat. I was. I just wasn’t in my right mind. And when you’re not in your right mind, you do stupid things. Some people drink. Some people do drugs. Some people self-injure or stop eating or eat too much. I’ve done most of these things (minus the drugs- as my life is a little too trippy on its own) and none of it has gotten me any closer to that inner peace people talk about. They’re shortcuts through the forest that get you stuck in a swamp. And once you’re stuck, it takes a hell of a lot of effort to get yourself out again.

At some point in the last two months, I realized I was losing myself; losing myself to depression, to stress, to illness. I didn’t want to write. And even when I did want to write, I didn’t have the energy. Writing has gotten me through a lot of bad things in my life. It got me through an abusive childhood and abusive boyfriends. It got me through back-stabbing friends and cheaters. It even got me through a particularly dark time after my sophomore year of high school when I couldn’t bring myself to leave the house. So, when I can’t write, there’s something really wrong. And when I stop caring I can’t write; something needs to be done.

Going to Colorado was one of the best things I’ve ever done. It was a decision that put me first, even though I knew what it would cost me. And it didn’t fix everything. I came back home and things were still the same. I went back to work and it still depressed and stressed me. It didn’t take long for me to settle back in to the familiar monotony. But just when it looked like things were going to be the same as they were before, I got in a car accident. It was a jarring experience, in more than one way.

Physical pain and an inability to do much about it really gives you a different perspective. Suddenly you’re staring into the eyes of a cold hard truth: no one is going to take care of you, so you might as well take care of yourself. And it didn’t hit me like that Chrysler Town and Country. My family was actually very accommodating. Helpful, even. But when I was forced to go back to work after just one day at home in bed because I didn’t have the PTO to stay home because I’d just returned from medical leave, the reality of the situation started to sink in. And when I got pulled into a meeting and threatened with corrective action because of something I had done while on the medication prescribed to me so I could actually be at work, it hit me. I don’t need this. I need food, I need water, I need air, but I don’t need this. Not when this is killing me. And it was. Slowly.

So, I handed in my resignation. I don’t have another job. I don’t have a plan. I don’t know when I’ll be able to drive my car again. But you know what? I’m writing. And to me, that makes all the difference.