I’m recovering from an existential crisis of sorts, undoubtedly fueled by a combination of current events, the reality of time, and the rousing of that evil entity known as self-doubt from its slumber. Please allow me to unburden myself…
I’ve been making progress on my novel, holding off on writing other words that are nagging to get out of my brain in order to remain focused on progress, but I’m stuck at a point with the main character and what is happening to her. That got the wheels of mediocrity spinning, and as I read what I wrote, I hated every word of it. I let it fester, and reread it all, and revised and edited, and still hated it. So I let it sit.
Then the inevitable happened, as it always does. I came down hard on myself for not making progress. I looked at the days with no progress and noted how each of them sped on by, just like the last 25 years did. I thought about things that happened 25 years or so ago and marveled that “wasn’t it just yesterday that happened?” I stopped and gasped as I realized that if the next 25 years goes by just as fast as the last 25 did, I’ll be in my seventies before I know it.
And what’s the frigging point of it all, anyway?
That’s the agenda of self-doubt, isn’t it? “What’s the point? Why even bother?”
So I was already feeling pretty crappy, letting my perceived inconsequential existence rule the roost as I moped about.
Add to the mix my varied emotions after learning about the passings of both singer Chris Cornell and a local powerboat race driver at a race I attended yesterday. The result has been one, giant mess of me, including tears and numbness with a side of insecurity-sprinkled gloom.
I talked things out with a friend today and I feel slightly better. Thanks, friend.
I thought about letting all of this continue to fester in my brain but decided to write about it instead. These are the words that need to come out today. Not words for my book. Not words for an article or a diary.
These words, here, need to be HERE, in this post. That’s what my gut and my heart are both urging me to do today.
I’m done fighting against the words that want to flow. When they want to see the light of day, I am going to let them pour out, even if they have nothing to do with my novel or are complete jibberish.
These words were elusive when I began writing this post, but lo and behold, here they are, waiting to be read by you.
I’m also done apologizing for being human.
Yes, the passing of Chris Cornell rocked me to my very core, even though I never met him.
Yes, I cried over the passing of a gentleman named David who I never met but photographed less than 24 hours before he died celebrating in a parade and less than an hour before he died gunning past me then out of the Inlet. Yes, David died doing what he loved, and I am keeping both his and Chris Cornell’s family and friends close to heart.
Yes, I am afraid I am running out of time. Big time.
Yes, I don’t know what path my main character is going to take and yes, sometimes I don’t know what path I am going to take, either.
Yes, I find writing creatively to be very challenging but I am going to keep writing and do my best to keep self-doubt in exile.
Yes, I find inspiration everywhere and observe everything.
Yes, I have a big heart.
Yes, I am human, and no, I’m not sorry for it.
The only thing that is real is this moment. Everything else is either a memory or a fantasy.
Wait a second…isn’t that the point James Joyce tried to get across in Ulysses, anyway?
This moment produced these real and honest words of confession and healing and epiphany.
I am going to be okay.