The past few days have been so busy! It’s been non-stop, before sun up until well past sun down. It’s actually been a blessing in many ways. The anxiety seems to have dropped off a bit as I haven’t had much time to over think. (I’ve only felt like I was having a mild heart attack two or three times today.) That, paired with the late night insomnia bought I’ve been having, had me asleep before midnight last night. I also overslept the alarm by an hour this morning. Almost eight hours!
Almost every time I post something that I’ve done, I go back and delete it, rewrite it or over think it into nonexistence. The morning after I posted Stairs of my Past I woke up, sat straight up in bed and hit the floor running to the computer muttering no, no, no, no! To my horror it had already been shared by, (can I post a name here?) a very popular site, My Beautifully Disturbing World. I sat back in disbelief. That wasn’t the first time. It seems every time I write something I thought was awful, childish or just plain stupid, someone shares it. Then the confusion and self intrusive thoughts start doing their dance around and around my head….normally for the rest of the day and night. Was it possibly good? Why did they share that? Was it the best of anything I had to offer on my site because it’s ALL bad and they couldn’t find anything else? Maybe I don’t suck? And on and on and on.
So, I broke down today and sought advice from someone who’s opinion I happen to value. She’s a writer and an editor and a dear friend. She’s one of the rare people out there that are just plain good. All heart. I’ve been wrestling with the idea for a while but honestly her writing is, well actual writing. Her Facebook posts alone have left me confused and lost sometimes only a few sentences in. I was also a bit nervous. Here’s someone who knows me, in real life. Am I ready for this?
She said, in so much better words, I didn’t suck. I had a good idea.
:::carnival music in the background as the Ferris wheel starts round:::
She said I didn’t suck! Maybe this isn’t a stupid idea! Maybe I can do this! Can I actually write?! Did she really think that? Would she actually tell me? Did she read the same stuff I wrote? HE doesn’t even like what I write. I can’t do this. I’m not educated enough. My grand kids write better stuff than this. God that was childish, a haiku, really? I can’t do this. I suck.
:::Ferris wheel stops with my car at the top, rocking in the wind. The music has stopped. The lights are off. Everyone has left.:::
Nobody is coming. Nobody can reach me. I’m alone. I can’t sleep.