Monday, May 16, 2011
When an idea first takes hold, it is exhilarating. I see the potential landscape, the paths that I could take and I imagine my final landing complete with applause and accolades. It never comes. Instead of landing safely on solid footing, I hit another great idea and off I go again with all my previous ideas being flung violently to the wayside by my momentum.
I have been bouncing for too long. Everything in me is tired. All this continual movement has bred anxiety and fear because I know that my fabulous yet fleeting brainstorms can not sustain me much longer. I am soon going to loose my footing and go sprawling about hurt, tired and disgraced. It is time to stop the bouncing and just walk. One step at a time and get where I am supposed to be going.
Because so much time has passed, almost 5 years, it is hard for me to admit that I am still in the ripple effects of my deep depression from losing Lauren. I understand that losing a child is not something you ever "get over". And I also understand that as long as you are moving forward and not stuck in your tragedy - there is no expiration date on grief. I have a right to be sad anytime the feeling arises. Yet, I constantly give myself a hard time because there is something in me that wants to "get over it". Simply because I do not like the emotionality of it all. I do not like feeling sad. I do not like feeling like something is still missing. I do not like the tightness I feel in my chest right before I cry. Although I am not cold and unfeeling, I am not overly emotional. In fact, I can detach from my emotions like a booster detaches from a rocket . When the pressure hits I can jettison my feelings from a situation with a quickness. Except for this - I cannot detach. I can't turn the feelings off or keep the recollections at bay. They are with me everyday. And what's worse, they call to me to write. Every single time I sit at my desk, or start a journal entry, I feel the pull.
So I bounce.
Last night, I couldn't get started. My mind was racing trying to decide what to do first. I became quietly overwhelmed and immediately took a pause. I sat silently in my creative disarray, surveying my personal landmine of half executed ideas. I am a writing jack of all trades, with not a whole lot to show for it. Last night I finally confessed that I have been ignoring the call, choosing instead to bounce around from one idea to another in order to avoid the inevitable. My racing mind slowed. I landed. I have my story to tell. All of it.
Except - where to start?