(no subject)
I went for a jog at 1:00 in the morning. I wanted to feel the pain. It took two miles of non-stop jogging for it to happen, but the whole time I was feeling a growing lack of determination. I thought to myself at one point, "I need at least this much determination to do some of the more relevant things in my life and I barely have it." I think that helped push me. Then, toward the end of my jog, I hit a long straightaway beside a lake. I thought to myself, "This is like where I am in my life right now. I'm starting off feeling like I don't have enough to make it through, I'm already exhausted, but I'll do it, the whole time feeling like I can't." As I thought that I realized that I knew I could, so why not have the right attitude. The straightaway melted away. I felt almost like I teleported through it, it was gone so fast. I hit the wall shortly thereafter. "And at the end of my life I have a massive coronary!" My chest felt like it was going to explode. I made myself feel it for a little while then started walking. I could barely stand up straight for the tightness in my chest. Then, seconds later, I walked through a massive spider web and thought there could be spiders on me, and I decided to run fast to get them off, and it was easy. Seconds earlier I was in pain from a loping jog and here I was bolting. After about ten seconds I stopped. A minute later I did it again. Twice more. Longer. When I got home I showered and there were two or three spiders on me.
I never ran that long non-stop before. I usually jog then walk then jog. But I wanted to hurt myself. I wanted to knock myself up against my boundaries. I need to revisit that experience regularly for a while. I realize that I define my identity by what I do and I have a very low sense of self worth. I need to stuff like that so I can feel strong as I wrestle with my boundaries. I have so rarely pushed it that far. And, as a writer, I'm not going to get any satisfaction for a while. I already feel I am a decent writer, but so much of my identity with that right now is wrapped up in getting published and being successful. It's going to be nothing but fear for a while. Is this good enough? Will I get published? Will people buy my book? Will it be easier or harder to publish the next book due to the success or lack of success of the first?
I was given a book about depression in relationships a while back and hadn't been able to read it until the semester ended. I brought it down to South Florida to read. I barely started reading when the reason I started in the first place was pulled out from under me. I'm going to read it anyway and try to open my mind past the previous relevance of the undertaking. I'm just sick of feeling inedequate.
I'm sick of feeling inadequate and wishing other people would help me. I was talking to a friend last night and I admitted that my whole life I wanted a father figure or a mentor that would show me how to be disciplined and strong and successful. I had looked for mentors through jobs and school. Part of my problem is that I've treated others the way I wanted to be treated--and nobody else wants to be taught. Nobody. Not even students. And I talk too much. So I'm going to do all my talking on paper (or the computer screen) and just shut the fuck up.
I never ran that long non-stop before. I usually jog then walk then jog. But I wanted to hurt myself. I wanted to knock myself up against my boundaries. I need to revisit that experience regularly for a while. I realize that I define my identity by what I do and I have a very low sense of self worth. I need to stuff like that so I can feel strong as I wrestle with my boundaries. I have so rarely pushed it that far. And, as a writer, I'm not going to get any satisfaction for a while. I already feel I am a decent writer, but so much of my identity with that right now is wrapped up in getting published and being successful. It's going to be nothing but fear for a while. Is this good enough? Will I get published? Will people buy my book? Will it be easier or harder to publish the next book due to the success or lack of success of the first?
I was given a book about depression in relationships a while back and hadn't been able to read it until the semester ended. I brought it down to South Florida to read. I barely started reading when the reason I started in the first place was pulled out from under me. I'm going to read it anyway and try to open my mind past the previous relevance of the undertaking. I'm just sick of feeling inedequate.
I'm sick of feeling inadequate and wishing other people would help me. I was talking to a friend last night and I admitted that my whole life I wanted a father figure or a mentor that would show me how to be disciplined and strong and successful. I had looked for mentors through jobs and school. Part of my problem is that I've treated others the way I wanted to be treated--and nobody else wants to be taught. Nobody. Not even students. And I talk too much. So I'm going to do all my talking on paper (or the computer screen) and just shut the fuck up.