I don’t feel especially well. My neck is a misery. I am eating poorly. I am a case for a headache.
But, somehow, just being here at the page is a bit of a tonic. I can’t have J. around as he’s sleeping on the far side of the country so I have, instead, what I’ve always had. A door to open to the words I know.
I need a bit more self-care, but I also need to take a moment to look around.
I need to get the words in so I don’t devolve into selfishness and fear. There’s another writer at work – well, multiple writers – but also one who purports as THE writer. She’s also very nice. And sort of what it is like to be told by everyone that their friend, the great and wonderful actress Grace Kelly is an incredible writer. I don’t know what her stories are like, but apparently, she does well enough to get them published in some form or another and I know that if I don’t get myself together…I will start really making up some bullshit to assuage my heart. This one that wants to write and knock socks off with the work that I can do.
So, I have to get back to the daily writing and push myself harder to get things to stages of completion. Not to wander off when it gets difficult or when there’s a moment of disconnect between the ideas and the language flowing out of my fingertips. Because if we sit still at all, the well will fill. There’s always a bucket’s worth springing out of the ground if we just give it a moment.
Five words is not the same as no words, but it’s not all that much of an improvement. Caring, giving a shit about myself is a stupid hard thing, but that’s the only way. So self-care even in the face of knowing the pain and suffering of those around me has got to be prioritized. So as soon as I mark these words done, I am toddling off to some other site to purchase a warm wrap for my neck to help soften and relax it. I am booking a massage so that I can be remotely comfortable. I can find a soft breeze and let it flutter around me.
I know that I can lose the plot as the days get longer. I am thinking about what it would mean to take my sister up on her offer and have a reason to go to J’s neck of the woods. This brings up every flavor of freaked-out that I have. Body fears, intimacy fears, travel to really busy places fears, fears of heights, fears of being pushed when you don’t want to be afraid for a minute. But worse than that, I think, are the fears that he’s not ready – that he’ll never be ready – for me to share space with him. Or that I won’t or can’t handle it. It’s…a Pandora’s box. But I don’t have to resolve it tonight. Just think on it.
All the smallness and fear set aside, it would really just be lovely.