I wish I had the kind of anxiety that made me super productive. A little high even. I know that people get like this. A wind of energy, and into production mode. But me, this week? I’m frozen. Actually frozen. Full of ideas that are caught in a funnel. I want them to come out. But they won’t even trickle. I have so many things to write about and projects I want to start and big words and big ideas but I’m so stuck. Stuck on the runway, as Liz Gilbert says. Spending a lot of time here on the safe runway, where I can’t fall. I’m ready to fly but I don’t know how we can, and I’m starting to believe that we never will. Write it out says The Ginger Hunk. How you’re feeling now. If you can’t do your planned stuff, at least let out how you’re feeling now.
It’s not the posts I had planned but it’s what I need to say.
I’m not doing so great. I don’t even feel motivated to make an appointment for an eye test. I’ve been dragging myself to the gym, to work. I’m okay once I get there but I am consumed by this waiting.
It has been three years since the first surgery. Then the second surgery. Then hope. Then waiting. Waiting has become the new normal for us. First with hope. Now with nothing. Now it is like I have nothing inside me left. Things could be worse. I agree. He doesn’t have something like #fuckyoucancer, so I feel like I have no right to complain. Things are worse for other people. Who am I to feel like this about this? Am I being a princess dickhead? It’s fixable. This thing. This problem with The Ginger Hunk. But being at the whim of an agency that may do what ever they please, whenever they please is wearing thin with my patience.
I’m a social worker. And I can’t figure them out. Have I failed too? Should I have been available more? Did I fuck up this process?
My Dad is a smart man and told me when I was young to always be okay on one income. We had savings to get us through this time. I have a job. We are okay. We are going to be okay. It is going to be okay. Is it? People keep telling me. I can’t think of the future, only the hill to climb ahead.
The sun was peeping out before but there is little light left.