Breaking the Blogstipation
Hi, Internets. I'm sorry I've been so neglectful. It's not you--please don't take it personally. It's just the way life seems to be right now...busy, full of distractions.
Yeah, I know it's always that way. But after a while of not blogging, it becomes harder and harder to blog. Things pile up. The pressure of summarizing several months (let alone in a witty, entertaining fashion) becomes too strong. It hasn't helped that Parentheticals' formatting and template got all borked, and I haven't had the time, energy or accountability to fix it.
Also, I feel like my usual online activities (blogging, reading blogs, surfing, posting pictures, answering emails) have become more overwhelming to me lately, and thus I don't do them--I'm not sure why, except to point the finger at generalized post-holiday, dark of winter blues (with maybe a bit of imminent birthday-related existential angst thrown in). It seems I've been reading the travel brochures for "I Suck"-land, even though I haven't quite set out on the journey there.
It's not like I've been distracted by some new hobby or activity (well, besides running my own biz, which admittedly does constantly color my mental outlook). If anything, life feels like it's been pared down to essentials lately, especially now that the holidays are over. Family/house stuff, biz stuff, writing. That's pretty much it. Working at home makes me even more hermetic--there are lots of days now where I don't go more than a mile from my house, and I don't do anything except interact in various ways with the computer screen, leavened with a few house chores. I've somewhat settled on a routine: I get up, get the kids dressed and breakfasted and driven to their respective locations, and then I come home and write (or do my critiques or other personal admin stuff) for an hour. Then I try to figure out what business-related tasks I can accomplish that day before getting overwhelmed and stalled out with the sheer impossibility of it all. (See, existential angst.) Every day is a constant struggle between laziness (because in my mind the creative stuff, which isn't Work, becomes laziness) and discipline. I fantasize about A Room Of My Own and an independently wealthy life that includes all the time I want for personal artistic projects.
The good part is, I'm making excellent progress with the writing. Regular writing time really does help--go figure. And having the post-VP critique group (with its required monthly submission) helps too, helps greatly in fact. There actually does appear to be hope that I might finish the novel sometime this year. And that it might even be salvageable after a good solid bunch of revision, so that I can start trying to find a way for it to be published someday.
The bad part is, I get waves of feeling hopeless and crabby and misanthropic--I know something's weird when I find myself wishing more than once that people (including my family) would go away and leave me alone. That's so unlike me (well, except for those bad PMS times). I'm having guilt and anxiety over money, creativity, purpose and activism. Where's my Costco-sized roll of silver lining?
But I know how this goes. And I know that it goes away. As my yoga teacher said in yesterday's class (she was talking about meditation and quieting the "monkey mind", but I'm open to re-interpretation): it's not so much whether or not we fail, it's about how quickly we remember how to fix it.
So, one step at a time. First, break the blogstipation. Then, just start doing stuff again. Put a few pictures up. Make a new painting. Go out to lunch with friends and network. Bring a meal to someone. Let the guilt trickle away like thawing icicles, drop by drop.
Yeah, I know it's always that way. But after a while of not blogging, it becomes harder and harder to blog. Things pile up. The pressure of summarizing several months (let alone in a witty, entertaining fashion) becomes too strong. It hasn't helped that Parentheticals' formatting and template got all borked, and I haven't had the time, energy or accountability to fix it.
Also, I feel like my usual online activities (blogging, reading blogs, surfing, posting pictures, answering emails) have become more overwhelming to me lately, and thus I don't do them--I'm not sure why, except to point the finger at generalized post-holiday, dark of winter blues (with maybe a bit of imminent birthday-related existential angst thrown in). It seems I've been reading the travel brochures for "I Suck"-land, even though I haven't quite set out on the journey there.
It's not like I've been distracted by some new hobby or activity (well, besides running my own biz, which admittedly does constantly color my mental outlook). If anything, life feels like it's been pared down to essentials lately, especially now that the holidays are over. Family/house stuff, biz stuff, writing. That's pretty much it. Working at home makes me even more hermetic--there are lots of days now where I don't go more than a mile from my house, and I don't do anything except interact in various ways with the computer screen, leavened with a few house chores. I've somewhat settled on a routine: I get up, get the kids dressed and breakfasted and driven to their respective locations, and then I come home and write (or do my critiques or other personal admin stuff) for an hour. Then I try to figure out what business-related tasks I can accomplish that day before getting overwhelmed and stalled out with the sheer impossibility of it all. (See, existential angst.) Every day is a constant struggle between laziness (because in my mind the creative stuff, which isn't Work, becomes laziness) and discipline. I fantasize about A Room Of My Own and an independently wealthy life that includes all the time I want for personal artistic projects.
The good part is, I'm making excellent progress with the writing. Regular writing time really does help--go figure. And having the post-VP critique group (with its required monthly submission) helps too, helps greatly in fact. There actually does appear to be hope that I might finish the novel sometime this year. And that it might even be salvageable after a good solid bunch of revision, so that I can start trying to find a way for it to be published someday.
The bad part is, I get waves of feeling hopeless and crabby and misanthropic--I know something's weird when I find myself wishing more than once that people (including my family) would go away and leave me alone. That's so unlike me (well, except for those bad PMS times). I'm having guilt and anxiety over money, creativity, purpose and activism. Where's my Costco-sized roll of silver lining?
But I know how this goes. And I know that it goes away. As my yoga teacher said in yesterday's class (she was talking about meditation and quieting the "monkey mind", but I'm open to re-interpretation): it's not so much whether or not we fail, it's about how quickly we remember how to fix it.
So, one step at a time. First, break the blogstipation. Then, just start doing stuff again. Put a few pictures up. Make a new painting. Go out to lunch with friends and network. Bring a meal to someone. Let the guilt trickle away like thawing icicles, drop by drop.
This is a great step - hooray, you!
I know it's so hard to break out of this kind of thing.
Baby steps, bird by bird, bit-by-bit, yaddayadda.
But it's good to acknowledge all you HAVE done, and ARE doing.
You rock.
Repeat after me: "I. ROCK."
hugs,
r