just elise
i question it all now. My writing, my submission. Something is so wrong, and i can’t put my finger on it. How could it all be in the palm of my hand one day, controlled, in its place, managed and efficient, and then … just gone?
i can’t write anything. i can write about not being able to write, but fiction? my refuge? my solace? i can’t … write.
i visit my favorite blogs, my usual haunts, the creative spaces of those with whom i felt a kinship, a bond, and i’m overwhelmed with the talent and the astonishing capacity they have for stringing words into entrancing passages of such beauty it makes my throat ache.
i’m all over the place. Jealous. i’m falling in love and out of love with all of you, over your words. i hate you for them and i love you for them, and i can’t stay away even when what you’ve written moves me to tears.
What is wrong with me?
And that’s just the writing. i can’t even begin to express my confusion over my submission. Not about whether or not i am submissive. i’m terrified, suddenly, of how much. How deep. Nobody is good enough, bad enough, cruel enough. Can nobody empty me, reduce me? Nobody?
i hate this.
Fuck optimism. Fuck silver linings. Fuck my everlasting patience and poise and fuck the hell out of my passion. i’m just elise. That’s all. Nothing more.
Rough day, elise? It will all come back………..when you let it. The more you pursue, the more distant it will become.
Oh my. There’s a lot here. And as for it all “coming back” someday, as Kev says, hmm… I don’t know about that. Coming back - or going back - implies that we can revisit things as they were, and in this case (because I am experiencing something similar to what you’re saying here, elise), I think holding out the hope of revisiting things as they once were may not be the correct way to think about this.
The feeling of something being wrong coupled with the wording of your title smacks of signs that you are embarking on a quest - a very important quest. And as the I Ching might advise at the beginning of such a quest: depart at dawn, for it is wise not to make an angry ghost of this situation.
Blessed journey, elise. If it helps, know that I walk in the same direction, not far from you.
Kev,
More than a rough day. Rough … just rough. i feel all wrong, rather like my shoes have been switched or my shirt is backwards.
Elizavetta,
Thank you … i feel you. i really do. i hope you know that.
elise
… controlled, in its place, managed and efficient …
Everything changes. We lose place, lose control, reach the end of the road only to discover it’s led us to a place we cannot exist.
Sometimes … some things, in life, come back to us. Other things … they’re gone forever, and we have to learn how to go on, without.
Cradle your heart, elise. And remember: sometimes, it’s possible to be too careful.
Email, if you like. I’m going to keep reminding you — no matter how prickly your edges are.
Thank you, Beth.
elise
sometimes we need to just let things be. they may not be in their place, or controlled, we may not even understand what they are. but let them be. let yourself just be. not pushing to understand or analyze, and definitely not trying to control.
it is often difficult to let go, to stop the mind that needs to know and understand - but do try. things become clearer when we are ripe to understand. give yourself a break. do something comforting. i say a good book and some icecream.
take care.
To quote that great philosopher Charlie Brown, Good Grief!
This has been brewing just below the surface for a while now, hasn’t it? The unease, the disaffection, the slight queasiness in the tummy? Why would you expect things to remain smooth and simple when every road has it’s rough patches? It’s not surprising that your muse is on holiday if you’re uncomfortable with your present reality. She’ll return, probably with a vengence, once you begin focusing forward instead of questioning all that has gone before. My experience says there’s no easy way through it, you simply must force yourself to step forward one foot at a time until it becomes rote. And before inertia traps you, do something outrageous just for the hell of it. Get a new tattoo, put pink streaks in your hair, eat an entire box of Godiva, send a nasty letter to your least favorite politician, learn to belly dance…and all the while remember…this too shall pass.
The last time I had a similar crisis, I wrote an entire book of fiction while traveling the Long Island Railroad. I so hated my reality that I created a new one. You might try something similar, but in an entirely new genre. Science fiction, anyone?
rose,
Thank you. It is comforting to know people care.
elise
Kaz,
i’m not sure it’s been brewing. Maybe it has, and one of those single events happened to make it surface. i know the event that put me here, it is just illogical that it should have an effect this … huge.
Thank you for the words of wisdom. i’ll do my very best to apply them. Hopefully before i emotionally dissect someone.
elise
What’s wrong with you?
You’re human.
Even those of us with lesser talent feel the same thing. Only in our case there is reason.
Buffalo,
You sweet thing. Thank you. And please don’t denigrate your talent. We simply come at it differently.
elise