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Aug. 25th, 2020 12:33 pmWell. I've figured out the appalling reason I can't get myself writing anymore, I don't know how to fix it exactly (I have some theories and some advice, but I don't know, I really don't know), I should have taken action two months ago at least, and now I've lost a huge part of my self-identity and this absolutely fucking sucks.
It could be worse? I could not be in code school and therefore not rebuilding a part of my self-identity that I'd put away for sheer lack of time to work on it, but. I feel like part of my brain has been tied off and left to die, and every goddamn thing is already so much that I don't know where to find the energy to get it back. I cannot articulate how much it sucks, though I guess if you've been following me through all my writing babble you know how much writing was a part of who I am, what I do, what I do to feel good, etc etc.
Good things did happen? I slept last night through the night (albeit I had zombie dreams, which, what the hell), I woke up this morning and the boy came home and decided to pop off the cover of the AC and clean the front filter; usually before we put the AC in we clean the whole thing with bottle brushes and disinfectant type things but that was months and months ago. But popping off the front and cleaning the filters can be done more easily than taking it down, taking it even more apart, and cleaning the insides. So we'll do that labor-intensive part when we're both rested, and in the meantime I can probably sleep in my bedroom on my nice soft yet firm bed again.
Also he brought home donuts for breakfast, so that was nice. I did my exercise, I put on some makeup. Except lipstick, which I'm going to put on as soon as the antihistamines kick in, heh. I sorted through my Stitch Fix, which included miracle cargo pants so comfortable I literally forgot I was wearing them. I put away the costumes I can no longer wear so they'll stop making me sad every time I look at them, except the boots which are still out with the pile of leather for my first repair project. Um. Good things are happening. They've just all been overshadowed now by my loss of my ability to write. I'm sure I'll crawl out of this eventually. I've been writing for thirty plus years, that's a lot of momentum, isn't it? I'll figure this out eventually? It'll just start bubbling up again until I put words down, that's what happens, right?
ETA: Have now realized this could be a problem when all my independent project coding ideas ... came from things I had written. Fuck.
It could be worse? I could not be in code school and therefore not rebuilding a part of my self-identity that I'd put away for sheer lack of time to work on it, but. I feel like part of my brain has been tied off and left to die, and every goddamn thing is already so much that I don't know where to find the energy to get it back. I cannot articulate how much it sucks, though I guess if you've been following me through all my writing babble you know how much writing was a part of who I am, what I do, what I do to feel good, etc etc.
Good things did happen? I slept last night through the night (albeit I had zombie dreams, which, what the hell), I woke up this morning and the boy came home and decided to pop off the cover of the AC and clean the front filter; usually before we put the AC in we clean the whole thing with bottle brushes and disinfectant type things but that was months and months ago. But popping off the front and cleaning the filters can be done more easily than taking it down, taking it even more apart, and cleaning the insides. So we'll do that labor-intensive part when we're both rested, and in the meantime I can probably sleep in my bedroom on my nice soft yet firm bed again.
Also he brought home donuts for breakfast, so that was nice. I did my exercise, I put on some makeup. Except lipstick, which I'm going to put on as soon as the antihistamines kick in, heh. I sorted through my Stitch Fix, which included miracle cargo pants so comfortable I literally forgot I was wearing them. I put away the costumes I can no longer wear so they'll stop making me sad every time I look at them, except the boots which are still out with the pile of leather for my first repair project. Um. Good things are happening. They've just all been overshadowed now by my loss of my ability to write. I'm sure I'll crawl out of this eventually. I've been writing for thirty plus years, that's a lot of momentum, isn't it? I'll figure this out eventually? It'll just start bubbling up again until I put words down, that's what happens, right?
ETA: Have now realized this could be a problem when all my independent project coding ideas ... came from things I had written. Fuck.