For a long time, I wasn't quite sure what that meant ... how could I fake it if I didn't even know how to? Then, I realized that was the point. It's like my favorite line from Miracle on 34th Street (the original, of course): "I believe, I believe, it's stupid, but I believe." Sometimes you have to fake whatever you are trying to do -- as a way of trying it on or as a way of believing during a moment of weakness.
Well, mostly what I feel the need to fake is competence.
Right now I am trying to fake that I am a competent writer -- that is to say that when I have an assignment, that I can accomplish it regardless of the level of excitement or inspiration I have for said assignment.
It is not such an easy thing to do -- right now I am just trying to edit a paper I have already written -- and at that I am mostly just typing in the notes I have already written on to the paper. I was talking to a friend yesterday about the blockage -- the one that paralyzing me from doing anything at all -- not just writing.
I wish I had time to unravel all the emotional crap that is causing the blockage -- and I guess it is an acceptable use of the time I don't spend doing the actual work I am supposed to be doing, but I honestly don't have time -- or space, it would seem ... except here.
So, this is what I am pondering...
Since my cousin died, I have been really struggling with my place in the world. More truthfully, with my value, that is to say the value of my life in the world. Though I know and understand that all lives have value -- intrinsically, even those whose lives seem to be contributing the least or even depleting the world the most -- and despite that the world keeps turning and churning regardless of which life joins or departs the world. [weird sentence but the thoughts are tumbling out of me higgledy piggledy and I am going with it.] Still I spent too much time wondering, worrying, comparing. First I thought of all the things that we did differently -- I went to college, she got married and had a kid and got divorced and had two more kids.
Comparing is always a perilous endeavor -- and rarely ends well. First, I thought how much more I had accomplished with my life -- and then, I realized, to my chagrin, how much more she had accomplished just by having a family. I don't imagine that it is the only way to make an imprint on the world, but it is a most concrete way. Regardless of how her kids do in life, and I am hopeful that they will do well, they are alive. She will live on through them, one way or another. I, on the other hand, have only education and employment experience to list on my life resume. Neither of which, regardless of how prestigious it may be one day -- and that is not a given, will LIVE. Family, while always a goal, has, again, taken the back burner as I try to do this graduate school thing. (At which I am at present feeling utterly incompetent.)
Clearly there are people who would note my absence, if I were to die, from time to time -- like holidays or special days; but, the fact is, that her kids will need and miss her every day for the rest of their lives. I am not sure if that is a measure of success in life -- and I am not even sure I was measuring success, but it certainly connotes value.
The tangle doesn't seem to let up in any way -- the cords and coils continue to ravel around my throat.
Pity parties ensued ... both for my on behalf of my cousin. I know, pointless drain of emotional energy ... but it is was it is. Sometimes we just have to wallow. I would like to say that some good came out of it -- but, unfortunately, I can only identify some bad that came from it: now, I have another weapon in the self-hatred arsenal. Every time I don't do my work in a timely manner, I feel more than useless and certainly not worthy of the space I am taking up here on earth.
Thus, the feeling of incompetence... this has probably gone on long enough for today... hoping to have more cogent and interesting thoughts tomorrow.
More than 2/3 way through this btw...
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