It makes me sad, but when I’m not doing anything sexy, even though I have tons of stuff that’s happened that I could write about, I have no desire to do so.
I need to feel sexy in the moment to feel inspired to write about it at all.
This bodes ill for the next few months.
Maybe I’m just having a bad morning. Or week. Or…something. Bleh. But at the moment I feel a dry, desolate landscape stretching before me, with no desire, no humidity, no moisture-laden heat to succor me. Do I force myself thru, dredge up a draft from the past and apply myself to the burden of manufacturing desire, where none exists? Or do I concede, give in, curl into myself and spend every night sitting on the couch, anesthetizing myself with television and crochet?
I really can’t do this for long.
“It’ll be nice to have a regular, nightly routine,” Ad said last night, comforted by the prospect stretching before him of endless nights of having me home. All I could think was that I did have a routine. A routine that I liked. Maybe it wasn’t his routine of sitting on the couch night after night, watching TV, reading, or playing a video game, but I don’t want that routine. I want the one I had. I want the freedom I had. I’m feeling trapped, feeling myself pacing the limits of my freedom like a caged beast, my tail thrashing, extending and retracting my claws convulsively.
And it’s only been one day.
But I can see these days and nights stretching out before me too, and unlike him, I am not comforted by them.
I need more than this.
It’s like the lack of public play venues in this godforsaken city. I need the energy of others watching, bearing witness, and barring that I get twitchy and irritable.
I’m already, one day into this fucking thing, feeling twitchy and irritable.
Fuck me. Maybe I’m just having a bad day.
No, I totally get the sense of twitchiness and feeling trapped. When what you have is not enough, it’s a natural reaction and one I know well ¬¬
It is amazing how just seeing others play or even simply hanging out with a few like minded souls makes such a difference.
Yeah, for me it’s the energy that all those people generate…the excitement and empathy and psychological heat…
Right now it’s not so much the public play that I am missing (tho for fuck’s sake, that would certainly help) but that exact same feeling that just being around W when we’re in that mode generates.
*heavy sigh*
Trust me, I know what you’re feeling. With this home remodel I’ve felt imprisoned in many ways for weeks. I’ve had to be home most of the time during the days: I haven’t felt comfortable being out of the house longer than a couple of hours.
I had a week respite with our kids (cats/dogs) being boarded when Jena was out. But otherwise, I’ve been tightly shackled to the homestead throughout.
Oh did I mention this is week 9 of this?
So yeah, I hear you. And am feeling very similar things.
Maybe you should come out west and we both get out of our houses and meet in Spokane! 🙂
Oh sweetie…thank you for the reminder to get out of my whiny head and count my blessings. ~hugs~
I am so glad that your ordeal is almost over!
And yes–Spokane in December would be lovely–I am keeping my fingers crossed!
xoxo