yeah a haze of exhaustion, frustration, and just down right pissy…..it’s been a long week….i hate you hackers…
so…mark and i went to applebees last night and we were talking….over the pile of dirty dishes left behind by our server. i kept trying to motion to him that we’re finished here. that he could clear out the appetizer plate and my bowl of soup. i guess he was busy. or dense. after a glance around, i also noticed how there were several bigger tables and mouths to feed. i figured he was just dividing his attention towards the big tippers, with more mouths to feed. heck, it’s the restaurant business, i know how tips work.
so, we were talking and somehow, we got to the issue of writing. i mentioned that i didn’t have it into me to write with a pen…not lately. most of my creative energy was going into my blog. then mark mentioned that he noticed this year, i didn’t write much. i guess he meant at home. after thinking about it some more, i realized that i was most likely afraid to write, with a pen – because it’s such an intimate and free form thing to do….and in those mind ramblings, i’ll probably remember everything that happened in april.
it was tramuatic enough to force myself to recall that incident and file the RSF complaint. i used a pen for that one. a month later, inside a cramp office at UCPD – i typed out another complaint and spent over 2 hours with a male officer, refining for cop-legal-lingo. it was more specific. it was more painful. so, probably, because of that – i’m at a creative block….or drain. like i said, i only have energy for my blog and when i have too – for otr. in my journal, i only have one sentence about that incident. when i took a week off from work, i couldn’t bear writing about it. i’m avoiding it and it’s draining all my energy. i’m deflecting it through working my ass of and it’s wearing me down. it’s still there, on the edges of my mind and soul and i don’t want to face it.
i took a big step in therapy, to stop blaming myself for what happened. i don’t punish myself for it – afterall, the asshole isn’t suffering for it. he was interogated by ucpd a few weeks ago. he called me a liar….what a jerk. but no, i’m not guilt trippin’ on this – i was the victim. it’s difficult to say, because i don’t admitting weakness. but it’s one of the few ways i can resolve what went down in april. it’s not my fault. i didn’t ask for this.
what do i want? i want my writing muse back. i want my inspiration. i want my courage to speak my mind and to explore my heart. i have to get over this trauma. i have to let myself heal. how do i do that without falling apart? it’s so damn painful to think about it. i will think about it, if i try to journal my thoughts again, with a pen. at least in front of a computer, there’s a certain amount of disconnect. it’s not as intimate. i’m safe, on this side of the monitor. with paper – your defenses are paper-thin against one of the most dangerous foes in the world: your mind.
it’s all in my mind. i want to get it out.