On a day like today, I’ll tell Jack or Nancy, “I have a bad attitude.”
I say it because it sounds funny, but it’s actually very true. I cannot pinpoint what is making me feel sad and frustrated and uncomfortable today.
I hate this feeling more than anything, and prefer more clear-cut emotions: anger, fear, lust, happiness.
Having an amorphous cloud over my head is confusing. I like to figure out what the problem is, and then do something about it. Or at least evaluate my Four Options.
But when you don’t even know why the heck ya feel like ya do…or even what you feel, it’s tough to figure out what to do about it.
If Dr. M was here, she’d remind me to “make room” for what I’m feeling. To “get curious” about it.
This takes patience. A lot of it. And that’s mostly why I’m writing all this. The writing helps. Directed thinking is nice, especially when all I want to type is:
I feel like I’m in an in-between place right now. And it’s uncomfortable. It may not be so much a transition phase as it is a waiting game. And I hate waiting. For things. To happen.
First there’s The Business. Nancy and I started this thing two years ago…and we’re still not launched yet.
It’s caused many people, including Jack, to lose some faith, or at least question what the hell we’re doing. Sometimes, I feel like I don’t even know.
Maybe when our website is up (this is supposedly happening mid-February) I’ll feel better. Or maybe when we get our first orders in. I don’t know.
Then there’s this moving thing. Sometimes I feel in the loop and sometimes I feel out of the loop. As I’ve said, I have no real control over any of the buying procedures/happenings, and I don’t even know how long this is going to take.
Plus, once the sale closes, Jack wants to live alone for “a few months”. So, I go back and forth from feeling okay about all of it to feeling like I’m in some kind of condo-purgatory.
Finally, there’s my work. As in, mostly, my poems. I’ve been being a good girl and sending out submissions once a week since the New Year. Which means I’ve sent out two.
I have a strategic plan of publishing in journals for the next 12-24 months and then shopping around my real manuscript. Publishing a poem book really is one of those things I feel I must do. I need it. Or, I think I need it to feel like I’ve finished something. I went to school, I went to grad-school, I published a book. 1-2-3, right?
At least I can smile a little when I see how ridiculous some of this sounds and looks in black and white.
If you made it this far, thanks. I feel a little better now.