Can We Talk?
Well, I'm dead in the water. I feel paralyzed and pretty discouraged right now. I got no one else to talk to about this, so I hope you don't mind a rather self-indulgent post.
Last week, I confirmed that all my papers, including data sets, background info for my dissertation, original research, poetry, essays and newspaper clippings of my publications have been destroyed. They are no more. I'm also pretty sure (though I haven't made a full inventory) that a number of books and some furniture is gone as well.
Then as if this little shit sundae needed anything else, the hard drive on our computer bit the dust and with it all the planning I'd done for the third quarter. I spent two weeks in late June and early July working through a goals planning exercise that was quite helpful in focusing me on where I wanted to go and how I wanted to get there. The exercise itself lent me clarity and some hope. The end product was a fairly detailed plan of action.
So there goes my past and there goes my future in one week.
I know. I know. Neither is true. I still know everything I knew without the papers and could probably recreate most of what I need, though some of the recreation would be costly in time and money and some of the recreation simply would not be the same (you really can't rewrite poetry without it being a different poem). I know my goals and they are still my goals and I could recreate them over a few days.
It's weird. In a way nothing has changed. In a way everything has changed.
My overwhelming feeling is one of absolute paralysis. I am going through the motions but my heart is elsewhere. I cry at the least little provocation. I mope. I feel like one of those wind up toys that bumps into things and changes direction only to bump into something else and change direction again, with the occasional winding down to a complete stop. I'm either wound down or frantic -- no in between.
Things are getting done. But it is almost like they are getting done in spite of me AND so much more could be getting done.
I want to ascribe some meaning to last week. I want to tell myself that this is the universe telling me to let go and live in the moment. I want to tell myself that all that holding on and all that planning was just anal rentitiveness. I'm a creative spirit and this was my spirit creating the present.
But if I created this, why does letting go not sing to me?
Maybe it is because the present is not a lot of fun at the moment. We have no A/C in our van or our convertible -- 24 people have died from the heat, btw -- and going out in the middle of the day is draining. The a/c at the RV is kicking off more often than not. The condo where Carl and I rent has a leaky a/c -- it is cooling but I fear it will die any day now. On top of the computer drive, we've also lost one of our printers. I haven't found a way to make a sale, or earn money in several months now. Medical care, dental care and just plain caring are becoming impossible.
Please understand a lot of good things are going on as well, but all those good things are going to pay off in the future. Right now. Right here. Life is a lot harder than it should be.
I feel like I'm being tested. I feel testy.
So I just bounce off this wall, that door, the other table leg. I wind down a bit then wind back up again. I just don't know where this is leading.
You know I thought writing all this down would help but I guess it doesn't always work that way.
Thanks for "listening."
Can We Talk?