Painting: Turmoil by ElfriedaI haven't blogged much this week. Granted, it's been a busy week with off site work activities and evenings out with colleagues. Still, I pride myself at my ability to churn out some kind of drivel on this site every night. When I sat down to ply some silly rhetoric several times this week, I could not articulate a thing. That great diatribe on rodents? It's still in my head. The discourse on the best underwear for summer? You'll see it next week. The personal comparison on New York's best steakhouse is still under debate. It's languishing in the drafts files.
One might call it a writer's block but in fact it wasn't. I could blame it on the computer monitor which decided to reject the system video card which rendered the monitor screen akin to something from "The Outer Limits." I could playfully discard it as being too wrapped up in my busy social life. The truth is, I haven't been myself this week. I feel remarkably detached from my life.
It's not as if I disengaged from my job; I've been focused and responsive, yet I haven't felt I'm bringing my game like I'm capable of. I've been a ghost at home. I haven't responded to friendly e-mails from cherished compatriots. I can't seem to find my center. I described the feeling to a friend today that I felt like I was rotting from the inside out. That's a bit dramatic, I admit, but that's exactly how it feels.
I never linger in funks and I know this one won't endure, but these brief periods of one's own personal mercury retrograde can certainly undermine one's confidence in their own value. I do think little moments of personal crisis can in fact be good--they remind you to validate those things you inherently know are things you do well. It gets you through the dark spots.
So thanks for your indulgence. I'll get to work straightaway on that rodent haiku.
5 comments:
I don't know what to say because I seem to be in a permanent funk these days. I envy your upbeat nature. Looking forward to your return!
I'm sorry you are down, Caryl. You deserve nothing but joy.
And yes, you're worth it.
This a time when you call on friends to help, borrow a shoulder to cry on or an ear as a sounding board. You still write so beautifully even in a funk.
My husband is recovering from bilateral knee replacements, so I've been nursing him back to health. As much as I love him and love taking care of him, sometimes I catch myself groaning if asked to get water or his glasses, etc... And then he tells me he loves me and thanks me for getting him through. I'm so lucky.
Yes, Karen, you are indeed. I'm glad.
Oh, Marcy.....Would it make you feel better if I told you I haven't been happy in about seven years?
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