There’s stuff on my mind but that stuff bores and frustrates me because it is hard to put into words. I know, I know my students would say, “Well, then that’s all the more reason why you should write it.” They give my shit right back to me and that’s why they are all geniuses.
I am neatly avoiding and trying desperately to NOT write what I should write. The stuff that is on my mind, but I fear writing about it because I want to drive the bus of my life and not struggle with the obsessive thoughts I have or repetitive themes that bother me.
Simple put, the things I cannot change. I really don’t want to write about THOSE THINGS I CANNOT CHANGE THOSE THINGS I MUST JUST ACCEPT. But yet it is those things that are a.) interesting because they contain drama and trauma b.) I need to continually purge those things. SO I don’t need to write about those things in order to FIGURE THEM OUT. I spent 10 years plus in therapy for that and don’t want to or need to. But, as I tell all my students, writing and journaling about the shit that weighs us down is necessary. It clears the air for more creative and interesting writing. It’s like sloughing off dead skin so you can see and feel the smooth pink stuff underneath.
Look how much time I have spent avoiding writing about what weighs my brain and spirit down.
But what’s the feeling? Because it is never the content of our lives that weighs us down. It is the feelings that those feelings bring to us, and you will find that each of the THINGS that troubles you, if you line them up and looked at their invisible form, you will discover that what hovers above them is some pervasive feeling you have struggled with your whole life.
Dad (Thing 1):
The Dad Thing is less now. It’s more about sadness and mourning the loss of the either reality or fantasy about him. At this point, whether or not he was a good father before my parents divorce is irrelevant because I thought he was, and whether I made it up or not, I felt it, and so what I mourn is what I had or thought I had– again, irrelevant. The point was, at the time and for years, I felt I had it. Now, I know I don’t, and it is sad and I miss it. At the same time, you may say, well, get it back, and the truth is, it doesn’t exist any more even though he is alive and he exists, he is not who I thought he was (or who he really was back then, again irrelevant). So, I don’t struggle except when it’s a holiday or birthday and the struggle is, do I or don’t I? I usually do, but each year it gets to be less and less effort. This year, no card. Not even an e-card. Just an email and I forwarded a few pics of the kids. His response: Thanks but my birthday would have been better if I wasn’t so sick with a cold…No mention of how are the kids or Mike? No mention of the fact that it’s been months since we have seen each other. So, you can see this whole thing goes both ways. And, it’s sad because I would love to have a father who showed genuine interest in me and my life and my children. Who wanted to help me make my way through adulthood. But he doesn’t, and, you know, I am not angry just simply sad. And I accept that I am sad and will probably always be about him. How can I not? Everyone wants a dad who loves and cares about them and shows it.
Mother Guilt (THING 2)
I hate writing about this because this one. I do struggle with and it sucks. I work and it’s a fact and if I sit here and explain how and why I work, it just all sounds more like struggle. Struggle to justify my working and really why the f*** do I have to explain and justify it? Why do I feel like I have to? Mother guilt. It just is. I think it’s part of the package no matter who you are and how you mother. It hurts. It hurts when I am working with a client in my home office (by the way, see how I try and soften and justify my working situation. Well, I work from home and am always available, etc, and I only work about 20 hours a week and…) Anyway, when Chels comes home from school, and I am with someone, she knocks on the door. It’s part of the agreement we have about Mommy working. She is allowed to come in after she comes home and say hello, and it kills me because she is sooo good– has never thrown a fit. She comes in, kisses me and says hello to whomever I am with and then frolics back upstairs to Daddy or our babysitter. She is FINE as my husband says don’t worry and, yet, I do. Is she okay? Is she feeling slighted or sad? Does she need me? Blah, blah….Even as I write this, I think, God what the hell am I feeling so sad about? If she weren’t okay, I would drop any and every thing for her and she knows it, so stop. But do you hear the struggle? And that, my friends, is what ruins a perfectly good and happy life. Struggling with your feelings. The tug-of-war that goes on between rational and irrational between the shoulds and what is. It simply sucks. This is not about whether or not I should work. Or whether or not I should do the residency program that starts in January where I will be gone for 9 days, my husband at home. This is about my struggle between the messy reality of motherhood and the perfect images I have in my head. This is about the F****** annoying thing I feel. This knee-jerk need to justify myself, to justify my working, which all creates more struggle.
Self Publishing and Publishing (THING 3)
Oh, I hate this one and feel the urge to refer you to previous blogs that really outline my on going struggle with this whole bullshit world of publishing and I really should phrase this all properly. The truth is what I struggle with is that I have been rejected by the mainstream, traditional publishers and have been embraced by the other world called self-publishing, awards and audience and agents. And, yet, I can’t get there where the elite live, and it’s funny. I am not the elite so it makes sense that the elite world of traditional publishing shrugs me off. But I want to be the nonconformist who CAN conform and benefit from the elite snooty snoots who can bridge the gap between and WHY THE F**** ISN’T IT HAPPENING????????? I got the brains and the talent and the audience. What THE F****?
I don’t need to discuss this bullshit more. You get it.
So I did it. I wrote about the three things on my mind. No, I didn’t go through heavy analysis but that’s boring and circuitous and frustrating cause who gives a shit WHY at this point. It’s more about WHAT IS and, hell, WHAT’S NEXT???????
With Dad and Mother Guilt nothing is next. I will continue to put out minimal effort with him and accept the level of our relationship and not really judge it or exert energy over it and with MOTHER GUILT I will continue to work and let the kinks of motherhood work themselves out.
With publishing….Here’s the thing. I can do something not about it but I can do something to work through it because it is truly the one thing I DON’T ACCEPT. I Don’t ACCEPT that mainstream traditional publishers will not publish me. That I won’t have a fabulous deal and movie rights, etc. I don’t accept it. I just don’t.
So, I did it. I wrote about the things I didn't want to. I am at the end and awaiting for some brilliant conclusion or parting thought but nothing is there.