Every Sunday I tell myself that the next week will be different. I will start afresh on Monday.
EVERY SUNDAY. Seriously.
I feel like I am stuck in limbo and not moving forward. I have been stuck in limbo for quite a while now.
Often I regress. And wallow. Boy, do I wallow.
There are so many things that I feel so upset with myself about. Letting people treat me like a doormat which led to corporate career suicide. I feel like a broken recorder when I type this.
I feel terrible to admit this, but even though I hate confrontation of any form and am a docile coward, my last work situation has left me with so much rage within me that it’s just plain unhealthy. I felt like I was wasting away in those grey cubicles barely tolerating artificial people and lack of kindness around me. How could I have let myself be such a doormat for that mean idiot who was no better than school yard bully. All this useless resentment is just hurting me and I can’t wait to move on and erase that whole hellish period and individual from my mind. If there was a pill I could take to do it, I would.
I have very low confidence, but there are moments when my head swells. When I feel like my potential has been wasted. When I felt I was too good for that place, and would have never fit in any way. Most of the time though I felt like I had no other option, but to leave quietly – for my sanity.
Perhaps it was too late.
Now these panic attacks.
I also have a terrible all or nothing personality. Take going on a healthy diet for instance. If I screw up just a little, like indulge in a few cookies, it ruins the whole day for me. It’s so silly that I need to wait for the next day to start again. A tad, OCD huh?
Somehow, for this blog I have thrown out all my rules. I just blog whatever comes to mind without editing. I don’t hesitate to hit the publish button after about fifteen minutes of typing. Although for this post I took an hour. I find that the words flow faster as my fingers are able to keep up with my brain when I type. When I physically write with a pen on paper, the flow is just not as good even though it feels more intimate.
I can’t say that at times when I re-read and spot several grammatical errors that it doesn’t bother me. I am not that happy about my quality of writing either. Readability could be improved. But the whole exercise of the blog was to get me finally in the writing mode, where I could write the book that I’ve always desired. That would have made my father so happy (Of you…..I can’t ever let go and never will).
I treat this blog as an electronic version of my bedside journal. That seems to be working. It’s given my disorganized existence some kind of structure. Now if I could just transfer this to my real life. Then I could possibly get something concrete done by the end of 2011.
There’s a story that’s bursting within me. It may not be as good on paper as it is in my head.
It will force me to face my demons. That’s the scariest part. It’s also scary to put yourself out there. The writers I most admire, all have a big part of themselves in their stories. I bow down at their bravery. I guess we all seek, authenticity, honesty and truth in writing.
I also bow down to their discipline. Most writers are extremely disciplined and have a well established writing routine. But I will take baby steps, with just 500 words a day, 5 days a week. At least 10,000 words a month. Can’t be too bad since, this post has 688. I’m already feeling more optimistic.
(Just a bit of trivia for motivation: A short story is about 7500 words and a novel has about 70,000 words)