So here I am, trying to to write three (possibly four if there's outcry) books, right? All three main characters are based on different aspects of myself (what? Sush- write what you know) and I'm having issues pulling sentence after painful sentence out of my head and today it finally dawned on me why. With all the upheaval going on recently I have little to no idea who I am.
For the past few months I've been in stasis- I'm here in this tiny house too afraid to leave unless I'm in desperate need of food (a little agoraphobic with heavy anthropophobic overtones) or paying a bill. I might dash out to get the mail some days if I'm feeling particularly brave. I sleep in, I stay up, I read horrid books that I'm ashamed to even own, I wear a lot of comfy clothes and I make bargains with myself in order to shower daily. I really like video games. Sometimes I trick myself into working out but most of the time I'm far too wily for that old trap and see it coming a mile away.
There's no way I'd answer the door if someone knocked.
These aren't at all new developments and, in fact, I've been struggling most of my life with these issues and it's just recently that I've allowed myself to give in. After mom died everything seemed to get harder to deal with. The move, homelessness, my flaky roommate, this whole vegan thing I just started but mostly my continued disuse of my talents- it's killing me that I'm still not happily ensconced in a career that uses my abilities as an artist to their fullest while simultaneously failing to suck my soul dry.
These issues I have... well I know they'll always be part of who I am and I used to float on top of it all. But now I'm drowning in it and I feel like I've reached the point where I either go full fledged hermit or slap myself out of it. Possibly with heavy doses of drug and/or alcohol therapy.
I'll keep you posted. Unless I turn hermit. Then I'll send you scrawled messages on bark.
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