Tuesday, April 15, 2014

1000 words

In order to help myself get back on track with writing, I set a new goal: 1000 words per day.  That is a minimum – no upward limit. There are no restrictions on what I write: blog posts, long emails to friends, journaling, school work, or work for money. 

This will account for the number of drafts that are in my folder for the blog and clearing out the articles I kept meaning to post.  These are not always the easiest posts, but they are generally the least emotionally challenging.  Though some of the journal pieces may very well turn into blog posts.  

I realized that I am not moving forward on many fronts.  The grief counselor has been pushing me, sometimes gently, sometimes more forcefully, towards dealing with the grieving process.  Getting in touch with these feelings has been the single most challenging aspect of my life for nearly a year – that is, since we lost my sister. I had just gotten to a point where I was kind of coping with the grief of losing my brother.  Like a turtle, my overwhelming response has been to pull my head into the shell whenever emotions are required.  The only emotion that I can readily express is anger and frustration.  There is no end to the anger and frustration – perhaps only compounded by moving home.  Compassion for myself and others always takes the backseat when I feel scared or overwhelmingly sad.  Fear is feeling I point to when I have to identify my emotions.  I am afraid all the time – living in the constant fear of the next bad thing and reacting in my own PTSD way to these crises. 

My PTSD is take charge, handle it.  [Probably take no prisoners.] Anger seems to be useful in this situation – but I try to call it strength or resilience.  In order to do this, emotions get shoved in the closet of the mind, thrown under the bed with all the other monsters.

As might be readily apparent, this is not a productive way to live.  I feel like I go from one crisis to the next – disrupting my sleep, causing me to not eat or overeat, making me feel like what I need most is to stay in my pjs in a dark room. 

I really need to be exercising. I want to be training for at least a 5K in June.  I want to finish my damn exams. I want to clear that incomplete from my record.  I want to make progress.  I want to not be desperately sad.

For reasons that I cannot exactly explain, blogging helps me get enough distance from the fear to actually deal with the monsters.

1 comment:

  1. Writing is good comfort. I find that processing everything through writing helps me to find enough distance to sort through all kinds of things. One step at a time, and one word at a time, and you'll get to where you need to be.

    "That is why I write - to try to turn sadness into longing, solitude into remembrance." ― Paulo Coelho, By the River Piedra I Sat Down and Wept