I don't know why it is so hard for me to write here now. Time is of course an issue but....more than that, I think it is emotional. I was very brave (for me) at the Writer's Conference last March, I raised my hand, and I stood my ground. I also revealed more than I had intended, via a spontaneous writing assignment, and had my other submitted work more harshly ridiculed than I had expected. All of which has resulted in my being more insecure about my writing, and generally feeling more vulnerable and exposed, which doesn't lend itself well to blogging.
I am like a me of the past. One who has a restless unsettled feeling at night, not of things undone, but of being haunted by foolish things said or written. Things I know that the people I wrote or said them to are not bothering with thinking about. But still how easily I can torture myself over it. I am only 100% safe in things I say to my husband and my son, anything else said to anyone else can be used to make me nervous.
Actually that is partly now why I am going to strive harder to write here more regularly, and to work on my novel (though I am scared to do so). Because I need not to torture myself over little nothingnessess of thoughts shared. If I am going to make myself uneasy well it should be over bigger mistakes. Stuff more worthy of the stress I attach to it.
It is so pitiful to stress so over the mundane, to feel my legs shaking as I attempt to walk down the steep steps of my son's high school, because I raised my hand to ask a question at parent night. A simple question: if they preferred to have papers printed rather than emailed? They need to be printed. Why on earth such an exchange should lead to my shaking, I don't know. I kept my thoughts about it rational, but minutes later my legs wobbled freely in accordance with something outside my conscious thoughts. I do hope I can stop being flustered for no reason; I've allowed myself to become all tilted and windblown in the absence of any storm. It is time I right myself. And on the occasion when I do find myself all tousled and tossed about, at least let it be from having actually braved to walk through a storm.
