Small things are the hinges to the universe.
I do not recall where I read the line above or who said it but it is a common enough phrase. It has been ringing in my mind lately as I struggle to find the will power to write. Not just write though, my memory and thought patterns seem to be off. Yes, I am pregnant and some will say that it is pregnancy brain but I feel more is going on that that.
It has come increasingly clear to me how I have lost my will. There are so many projects that I have started and it seems all of them are unfinished. Knitting, Waldorf doll making, and of course writing.
I buy vegetables to use in a soup but never make the soup. Boxes rest in my basement showcasing how I have begun purging but haven’t finished. I start getting ready for bed and get distracted and am cleaning the kitchen only to get distracted from that and move onto another project. While there are many out there that may say they have experienced the same thing I do not in anyway feel this is normal or healthy. It is a sign of an upset, troubled, mind.
I can recall three years ago how I could set my alarm clock to get up and write and I would. Now I struggle to even write down my dreams.
Where has will gone?
Well, a few years ago I had amazing success figuring out my life seeing a counsellor who used Somatic Experiencing as a therapeutic tool. It is my wish to return to her in January to see if she can help me find my will. I want to be a mover and a shaker again. I want to kick this resistance in the butt. To have a clear mind and do what my intentions are would be glorious.
Since 2am I have watched 1.5 hours of How I Met Your Mother episodes. All of which I have seen already. Plus, I have stuffed myself so full of food that I feel very ill right now. Here is my attempt at writing. Nervous …
I grab my shake and bags and get out of the car. I walk to the back door and pull it open. As I step inside Marina comes out of the coffee-room with a coffee and a warm smile.
“Hey, How are you?” I ask.
“Awesome” she replies with a smile. I knew that was going to be her response. I ask just to hear her say it cause it makes me glow a bit inside. “We have an issue with the welding program.” she says. And so my day begins. I have not even finished my breakfast or taken off my coat and I am at work.
Despite an hours drive to work, straight highway, I could not finish my breakfast because I was too afraid of wildlife while I drove in the dark. It is February. The only light I can count on is from the full moon.
Marina and I walk to my office and continue our chat. We chat as I hang up my coat and turn on my computer. We have a possible solution and then just as we are finishing up someone else is at my door with an issue. And so goes my day. Putting out fires.
I use my lunch hour to catch up on emails. Fires there too. Someone comes to my door and I say that if it is not due in the next 30 minutes I can’t deal with it right now. My mid afternoon I start my lunch and sneak off to the Co-op down the alley for a chocolate bar mid afternoon.
By the time I drive home it is 5:30. I walk in the door and holler for Sherese to come up so I can take her to guitar lessons. We pile in the car and off we go. As I wait for her lesson I am on my phone responding to work emails. Then back home.
Three hours on the road today. Exhausted. Finally we can start eating supper at 8pm. Forget it. Teela needs me. I sit and nurse her and then try to prep something for supper for tomorrow as well as clean up a bit. My family sits and watches TV. I have two laptops going and one TV on the main floor. Teela is running in circles around our bungalow. It is noisy and I am annoyed I am alone in getting everything done. I am annoyed that I have to ask for help. I am annoyed that everyone is oblivious. It took me 6 hours to eat my breakfast and 4 hours to eat my lunch. Supper wasn’t until 8pm and I didn’t even get to eat it while it was hot cause I had to nurse. Now I am the only one cleaning and cooking for tomorrow while everyone gets to relax. Oh, lets not forget that I just spent three hours driving today.
I can’t keep this up.
K, this is rough. I don’t like it but I do feel I broke the seal. It makes me think of how I have already written this scene three years ago and which approach is better. I will regret posting this but I am going to anyway. Don’t judge me. I know I can do better.
Well, after my post yesterday I went to work on finding a place to write in my office. My desk had become a dumping ground for my stuff. After that I worked on plot. Sunlight has been written for three years this month but it has not felt right. Using Martha Anderson’s The Plot Whisper book as my guide I now see that some of my chapters that I have used as summary and flashbacks now need to move to the front to build the plot. Plus, some of them need to be rewritten with conversation.
Still no writing though.
Every sun casts a shadow, and genius’s shadow is Resistance. As powerful as is our soul’s call to realization, so potent are the forces of Resistance arrayed against it.
The War of Art by Steven Pressfield
Most of us have two lives. The life we live, and the unlived life within us. Between the two stands Resistance.
The War of Art by Steven Pressfield
I fell off the writing-wagon and I must get back on. Nothing is right without writing. Last fall I had never been so happy as when I was writing about my family. I want that again. That Resistance is a tough son-of-a-gun.