writer's block and hating every word
Thursday 7/6
I just got back from jujitsu. Why do I feel fatter?
It was a tough week emotionally. I wanted to get my newsletter out before I did, but I just couldn't write. I hated every word I wrote. It all seemed clunky and boring. I just wasn't in to it like I wanted to be. I have to push myself because business is slow, and I have to re-connect to get people on my table. It is a never ending circle of pushing myself out there to keep my business healthy. I had to really focus on my writing mantra:
Be brave enough to let the imperfect exist.
I use that for so many of my fears about pushing myself. I didn't want to go to jujitsu today, but I made myself and I was happy I did. I had rung my bell pretty bad last Tuesday. I rolled back wrong and landed like a flat rock instead of rolling like a graceful walnut. Knocked the wind out of myself, and gave myself mild whiplash on the front of my neck. I made myself go 10 minutes early and practice rolling falls backward. It still feels like I'm hitting hard, but the 12 year old girl who was stretching near me said that it looked like I was doing it right. She also said the floor doesn't get softer, I just have to get used to it, and protect my neck.
Learning how to fall is crucial in life on and off the mat.
It's funny. I'm learning what's real and what's me. There is the real world then there is how I feel about it. Two very different things. If you have depression or mood issues, you get what I'm saying. Functioning crazy feels just like functioning on acid.
No there isn't a blue bear in the corner singing a creepy children's song.
You're peaking.
Just breath...
This sounds and feels a lot like when I get into a dark funk and keep thinking I'm a failure, always living on the edges of loser town. That I'm always one small fuck-up away from sinking this ship. My business is failing in ways I can't see. I've bought myself into a money hole. This refi isn't going to go through and I'm going to lose the house. I've pissed away the one windfall I had coming in life. I will always destroy what I've built because I'm deeply flawed, and you can't cure stupid. I'm unlovable, and a waste of a good skin suit.
Some days, I hop out of bed with a plan, a way to keep slugging away at it. But some days, I drool out of bed, ooze across the floor to the bathroom mirror to gaze in disgust at my stupid face. I turn away with a grunt, and go attack the fridge.
I have to function like none of this is going on in my head. I have to hold me in the still place inside me. I am the eye of the storm. My Cassandra self is predicting all manner of dire situations that are building up behind me. Tigers in the shadows, monsters under the stairs, starving wolves in the woods waiting to eat me up like the little wide eyed waif I am.
And all this is wrapped in a sense defiant tragic self destruction. I not sure if I can explain it adequately. It's drinking and partying in the face of despair, it's sex with strangers without a condom, it's flipping off the authorities while you drive off a cliff; it's embracing how fucked up your world is and deciding that if shit is going to blow, you're stacking the dynamite however the fuck you wish.
So punk rock.
So pathetic, so self involved(nigh unto fucking selfish)
7/7 Friday
Still at the bottom of the well.
7/8
Saturday
Yesterday I literally could not write past that sentence. At the bottom of a well, staring up at the small circle of sky above me.
The cat shit and pissed in the house Thursday night. Eurgh! I hate cleaning up that stuff in the house. Thank god I have tons of retired hand towels from work to clean up the pee. Once they get too ragged for clients they go into the dust rag pile. They are perfect for so many things, and zero guilt throwing them away.
The worst part is Scott gets amped when the cat doesn't "respect the fucking house". Scott ends up stalking through the house in a bad mood.
Every time he sees the cat, he points at him and says, "Hey fuckface, you're a piece of shit and everybody knows it."
The cat ends up slinking around the house consumed with shame. It drives me nuts. I yell at Scott that he is making MY life harder, as well as the cat's life. I'm trying to deal with the issue, now I have to counter act Scott's fucking crazy machismo shit. Like cat shit is a personal insult or something. I swear to Christ!
I've told him he needs to embrace the fact we have a "special needs" cat, and we are going to have to deal with it. The cat's nickname has been crackhead for almost a decade. Scott tells me he's not being mean when he's ignoring the cat. Like pets can't sense being the pariah of the house.
*mega le sigh*
Males.
I'm feeling better. I don't have any amazing game plan or Hail Mary thing going. I'm just embracing that today is okay, and I'm going with that. I'm going to buy a kitty litter box, I'm getting a pedicure, and I might just jump in the pool, after I mop the house with urine neutralizer.
Fuck.
I literally just got a text from a friend that one of my mentors in Junior League died last night from a massive stroke. She wasn't much older than me, like a decade tops. She was a co-chair of the committee I was going to be running next year. I was really looking forward to getting closer with her this year. She took home cake to her kids from my birthday party. I mean sincerely we were just starting to be friends.
Jesus. Her poor family.
She was a big personality, and her husband was sweetie. She is leaving a huge hole in the world.
Fuck! Fuckity-Fuck!
Wow.
7/10
Didn't get a chance to write on Sunday. I had all day to do it. I just didn't. I stayed up until 3am Saturday night building two wardrobes to stick in my closet to replace the long metal bar that was there now. There used to be two but the top one fell down a year ago during my housewarming party. A YEAR AGO.
Well, after I got the text about Karen's death, I packed it in at the spa. I had one client in the morning then ate lunch at spa, so I could have down time to write. It's too easy to wander off from my laptop if I'm home. It's the reason I'm doing this mini diary, so I can quit treating sitting still for writing like it's dishes to be washed, to be avoided--a chore.
It should be like a dirty secret, a rendezvous, a sneaked dessert, a treat, a clandestine love affair with my imagination. It's not, but dammit! I'm trying to save this relationship. ;O)
Anyway, Saturday my brain was plotzed after realizing a new friend was dead. I packed up and headed to Target to repair and kitty proof the house. (The little fucker) Target has a shit selection of litter boxes if you pardon the pun, but I found the two wardrobes inserts.
I quit drinking on my actual birthday, so tomorrow makes 3 weeks. I'm still waiting for the other shoe to drop, to jones out and end up in a hotel tub filled up with ice. I suspect I just watched too many bad movies in the 90s. So far I'm still hanging tough, but I don't know where to put my emotions.
I bring lunch home to Scott after I leave Target. We talk for a bit, then I went for a pedicure. After I got back, We re-watched the last few episodes of Season 7 of GOT, to get ready for next weekend. I made dinner. In between all this, I was sporadically going into the bedroom to assemble the wardrobes, while watching Hot Fuzz.
It was weirdly therapeutic. I ended up staying up until 3am
10/11 Tuesday
Monday was good. I was booked. Didn't get back to my journaling. But whatever. I'm going to let things lie instead of trying to pick up where I left off. The moment is gone. Let's just let it die, shall we?
Moving on.
Holy Crap! I'm still shaking from jujitsu class. In a good way, ha ha. Met a cool woman named Merita. I think she is Hawaiian/Polynesian. She has an armband tat that has Hawaiian flower, so maybe? Anyway, her kid goes to the gym so she is starting up too. She's good. Flexible. And super chill. We laughed and continuously apologized for throwing our legs over each other's faces. The guys are so serious. But they are always nice. It was a good day. I showed up early and practiced my falls in a corner. I'm determined to get better. It's mostly not falling scared. Falling with the confidence you are not going to hurt yourself. That's a hard one. I grimace every time. There is a twelve year old in the class. Whip thin and talented. He always has a dead pan face. That's a big one I'm going to have to learn. Poker face, no giggling, no saying the moves outloud to guide myself. I'm scared and embarrassed every time I go. I get over it, but I have to push through every time.
Oye! My back is starting to get tight. It's good. Means I worked out. Whew it was sweaty in there. First time I've seen the doors closed and the air conditioning on.
I have to learn to control my breathing. During the warm up, I get short of breath. I know I can control it. I'm out of practice. It makes me feel asthmatic. I hate wheezing like a geezer around all these kids.
The kids! They are doing summer camp at the gym. There was a herd of them working out when I got there. It was so cute. Babalu the owner was running them through their paces. They did somersaults across the gym then run back to get back in line to start over. It was cool to see. they were laughing up a storm.
I don't know when my attitude about kids changed, but it has. At one time, it would have irritated the shit out of me to have a bunch of kids running and screaming during my workout. Now, I just think it's cute, and I'm happy for them. Probably because I'm happy with myself, and don't worry about them mocking me for being fat. I guess it takes a few decades for that shit to wear off.
Time to do lunch and get ready for work.
I just got back from jujitsu. Why do I feel fatter?
It was a tough week emotionally. I wanted to get my newsletter out before I did, but I just couldn't write. I hated every word I wrote. It all seemed clunky and boring. I just wasn't in to it like I wanted to be. I have to push myself because business is slow, and I have to re-connect to get people on my table. It is a never ending circle of pushing myself out there to keep my business healthy. I had to really focus on my writing mantra:
Be brave enough to let the imperfect exist.
I use that for so many of my fears about pushing myself. I didn't want to go to jujitsu today, but I made myself and I was happy I did. I had rung my bell pretty bad last Tuesday. I rolled back wrong and landed like a flat rock instead of rolling like a graceful walnut. Knocked the wind out of myself, and gave myself mild whiplash on the front of my neck. I made myself go 10 minutes early and practice rolling falls backward. It still feels like I'm hitting hard, but the 12 year old girl who was stretching near me said that it looked like I was doing it right. She also said the floor doesn't get softer, I just have to get used to it, and protect my neck.
Learning how to fall is crucial in life on and off the mat.
It's funny. I'm learning what's real and what's me. There is the real world then there is how I feel about it. Two very different things. If you have depression or mood issues, you get what I'm saying. Functioning crazy feels just like functioning on acid.
No there isn't a blue bear in the corner singing a creepy children's song.
You're peaking.
Just breath...
This sounds and feels a lot like when I get into a dark funk and keep thinking I'm a failure, always living on the edges of loser town. That I'm always one small fuck-up away from sinking this ship. My business is failing in ways I can't see. I've bought myself into a money hole. This refi isn't going to go through and I'm going to lose the house. I've pissed away the one windfall I had coming in life. I will always destroy what I've built because I'm deeply flawed, and you can't cure stupid. I'm unlovable, and a waste of a good skin suit.
Some days, I hop out of bed with a plan, a way to keep slugging away at it. But some days, I drool out of bed, ooze across the floor to the bathroom mirror to gaze in disgust at my stupid face. I turn away with a grunt, and go attack the fridge.
I have to function like none of this is going on in my head. I have to hold me in the still place inside me. I am the eye of the storm. My Cassandra self is predicting all manner of dire situations that are building up behind me. Tigers in the shadows, monsters under the stairs, starving wolves in the woods waiting to eat me up like the little wide eyed waif I am.
And all this is wrapped in a sense defiant tragic self destruction. I not sure if I can explain it adequately. It's drinking and partying in the face of despair, it's sex with strangers without a condom, it's flipping off the authorities while you drive off a cliff; it's embracing how fucked up your world is and deciding that if shit is going to blow, you're stacking the dynamite however the fuck you wish.
So punk rock.
So pathetic, so self involved(nigh unto fucking selfish)
7/7 Friday
Still at the bottom of the well.
7/8
Saturday
Yesterday I literally could not write past that sentence. At the bottom of a well, staring up at the small circle of sky above me.
The cat shit and pissed in the house Thursday night. Eurgh! I hate cleaning up that stuff in the house. Thank god I have tons of retired hand towels from work to clean up the pee. Once they get too ragged for clients they go into the dust rag pile. They are perfect for so many things, and zero guilt throwing them away.
The worst part is Scott gets amped when the cat doesn't "respect the fucking house". Scott ends up stalking through the house in a bad mood.
Every time he sees the cat, he points at him and says, "Hey fuckface, you're a piece of shit and everybody knows it."
The cat ends up slinking around the house consumed with shame. It drives me nuts. I yell at Scott that he is making MY life harder, as well as the cat's life. I'm trying to deal with the issue, now I have to counter act Scott's fucking crazy machismo shit. Like cat shit is a personal insult or something. I swear to Christ!
I've told him he needs to embrace the fact we have a "special needs" cat, and we are going to have to deal with it. The cat's nickname has been crackhead for almost a decade. Scott tells me he's not being mean when he's ignoring the cat. Like pets can't sense being the pariah of the house.
*mega le sigh*
Males.
I'm feeling better. I don't have any amazing game plan or Hail Mary thing going. I'm just embracing that today is okay, and I'm going with that. I'm going to buy a kitty litter box, I'm getting a pedicure, and I might just jump in the pool, after I mop the house with urine neutralizer.
Fuck.
I literally just got a text from a friend that one of my mentors in Junior League died last night from a massive stroke. She wasn't much older than me, like a decade tops. She was a co-chair of the committee I was going to be running next year. I was really looking forward to getting closer with her this year. She took home cake to her kids from my birthday party. I mean sincerely we were just starting to be friends.
Jesus. Her poor family.
She was a big personality, and her husband was sweetie. She is leaving a huge hole in the world.
Fuck! Fuckity-Fuck!
Wow.
7/10
Didn't get a chance to write on Sunday. I had all day to do it. I just didn't. I stayed up until 3am Saturday night building two wardrobes to stick in my closet to replace the long metal bar that was there now. There used to be two but the top one fell down a year ago during my housewarming party. A YEAR AGO.
Well, after I got the text about Karen's death, I packed it in at the spa. I had one client in the morning then ate lunch at spa, so I could have down time to write. It's too easy to wander off from my laptop if I'm home. It's the reason I'm doing this mini diary, so I can quit treating sitting still for writing like it's dishes to be washed, to be avoided--a chore.
It should be like a dirty secret, a rendezvous, a sneaked dessert, a treat, a clandestine love affair with my imagination. It's not, but dammit! I'm trying to save this relationship. ;O)
Anyway, Saturday my brain was plotzed after realizing a new friend was dead. I packed up and headed to Target to repair and kitty proof the house. (The little fucker) Target has a shit selection of litter boxes if you pardon the pun, but I found the two wardrobes inserts.
I quit drinking on my actual birthday, so tomorrow makes 3 weeks. I'm still waiting for the other shoe to drop, to jones out and end up in a hotel tub filled up with ice. I suspect I just watched too many bad movies in the 90s. So far I'm still hanging tough, but I don't know where to put my emotions.
I bring lunch home to Scott after I leave Target. We talk for a bit, then I went for a pedicure. After I got back, We re-watched the last few episodes of Season 7 of GOT, to get ready for next weekend. I made dinner. In between all this, I was sporadically going into the bedroom to assemble the wardrobes, while watching Hot Fuzz.
It was weirdly therapeutic. I ended up staying up until 3am
10/11 Tuesday
Monday was good. I was booked. Didn't get back to my journaling. But whatever. I'm going to let things lie instead of trying to pick up where I left off. The moment is gone. Let's just let it die, shall we?
Moving on.
Holy Crap! I'm still shaking from jujitsu class. In a good way, ha ha. Met a cool woman named Merita. I think she is Hawaiian/Polynesian. She has an armband tat that has Hawaiian flower, so maybe? Anyway, her kid goes to the gym so she is starting up too. She's good. Flexible. And super chill. We laughed and continuously apologized for throwing our legs over each other's faces. The guys are so serious. But they are always nice. It was a good day. I showed up early and practiced my falls in a corner. I'm determined to get better. It's mostly not falling scared. Falling with the confidence you are not going to hurt yourself. That's a hard one. I grimace every time. There is a twelve year old in the class. Whip thin and talented. He always has a dead pan face. That's a big one I'm going to have to learn. Poker face, no giggling, no saying the moves outloud to guide myself. I'm scared and embarrassed every time I go. I get over it, but I have to push through every time.
Oye! My back is starting to get tight. It's good. Means I worked out. Whew it was sweaty in there. First time I've seen the doors closed and the air conditioning on.
I have to learn to control my breathing. During the warm up, I get short of breath. I know I can control it. I'm out of practice. It makes me feel asthmatic. I hate wheezing like a geezer around all these kids.
The kids! They are doing summer camp at the gym. There was a herd of them working out when I got there. It was so cute. Babalu the owner was running them through their paces. They did somersaults across the gym then run back to get back in line to start over. It was cool to see. they were laughing up a storm.
I don't know when my attitude about kids changed, but it has. At one time, it would have irritated the shit out of me to have a bunch of kids running and screaming during my workout. Now, I just think it's cute, and I'm happy for them. Probably because I'm happy with myself, and don't worry about them mocking me for being fat. I guess it takes a few decades for that shit to wear off.
Time to do lunch and get ready for work.
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