Another night in my home office
and I just realize I am sitting here facing the eastern sky, just as I did through my entire childhood...maybe my entire problem is one of feng shui. Tonight I am struggling with horrible anxiety and depression, and absolutely no reason that I can see to it. All is well. The US Treasury announced on Thursday that all married couples are married in their eyes, regardless of domicile - which is fantastic news for our taxes. Chris and I had a wonderful 3-day weekend, a trip to DC to the american indian museum, the national botanical gardens, the Jefferson memorial. We had a nice picnic at the Knox's yesterday. Martha Spong is going to help coordinate the gay bible study, and Gene Keith is going to give us seed money. And I suspect there lies the problem.
I am on the cusp of getting something I have been yearning for and working toward and I am AFRAID. I am afraid to reveal so much of myself. I am afraid that I will learn that I truly am the only one. I am afraid, that nobody will want to participate, or that too many will want to. I am afraid that this will somehow or another blow up in my face. I am afraid that this fire within is only in me, and will not spread to other. Or perhaps I am afraid that it WILL spread. I don't know what exactly is the source of this fear. I want to write, am compelled to write, and am daunted by the empty page, jumbled thoughts all trying to escape at once and no clear leader coming forth.
I'm afraid I will get what I want and find it isn't what I wanted at all, and this lifelong yearning will remain unanswered.
I am on the cusp of getting something I have been yearning for and working toward and I am AFRAID. I am afraid to reveal so much of myself. I am afraid that I will learn that I truly am the only one. I am afraid, that nobody will want to participate, or that too many will want to. I am afraid that this will somehow or another blow up in my face. I am afraid that this fire within is only in me, and will not spread to other. Or perhaps I am afraid that it WILL spread. I don't know what exactly is the source of this fear. I want to write, am compelled to write, and am daunted by the empty page, jumbled thoughts all trying to escape at once and no clear leader coming forth.
I'm afraid I will get what I want and find it isn't what I wanted at all, and this lifelong yearning will remain unanswered.