I write because I have to write. It is a need, a passion and something I can do when nothing else is possible. I wrote when I was in a closet. I wrote when I was in emergency room gurney’s. I wrote poetry when I was in the hospital with anxiety so severe I couldn’t care for my baby. Why do I write now? I am healed am I not?. I am in Zen. No! Zen is living in the moment. This moment is not happy. I am not scared. I just can’t go this week. I have had a setback. I walked my dog today for five minutes and did five minutes of weight lifting and it was torture, not the act so much but trying to go out. I went out with my house dress and uncombed hair. I didn’t care how I looked. I did wash my face. It is such a habit since I once had the worse case of acne on the planet. ok, why am I down?
I will tell you a true story to answer that. It is not my story. It is a story of a man who lived near my home. We attended a class together about setting goals. It was my first college class and I was 38. He wouldn’t talk about anything except an art festival he was putting together in the neighborhood that would be so unique, so wonderful for the community and he would show his art and get recognized. I lost track of him and one day not too long after his show, I met someone who told me he had been found hanging from the roof of his studio. The show, the festival had not done what he thought it would and he couldn’t deal with himself. He did not have the tools to look at himself and see himself as more than an artist. He was a man, a man with a mental illness and he couldn’t face that.
I write because I do not want to be that man. Not the suicide part. I would never do that. I don’t want to achieve something big and then feel let down because it was not up to unrealistic standards. I want to win against this monster that keeps me in chains. I want to live like I did when I am not home. I want to be able to dance, put makeup on and wash my hair like most people do, without thinking much about it. But for now. I accept that I have been through a lot. I was betrayed by a entity that I trusted. I am grieving. I am not living in the present because the present sucks for me right now. I have bad dreams that I remember in detail when I wake up. I won’t bore anyone here telling long dreams that don’t make sense even to the dreamer but I will say I dreamed I was in a plane that was shoddily made and it was full of people and a friend I know who can’t fly a plane was the pilot. I was scared. I woke up, heart beating, still alive but still scared. I don’t want to crash. So, I sit here and write and hope tomorrow will be a better day.