Perhaps I’ve forgotten how to be in love with writing. Perhaps when I left DAL I left the love I had for theatre and creativity behind and closed off my love like “Bones” closed off her love for her father. Perhaps I’m in an emotional tangled up relationship with writing, a sick relationship that has pounded me down for twenty years.
Perhaps getting me a tv and letting me only write when I want to not banging myself over the head for every second I’m not writing is letting me fall back in love with writing. Perhaps when university became a loveless piece of shit in my life I closed everything down. From relationships to creativity. I turned it all off and decided that it wasn’t worth doing it going forward.
My creativity became enslaved and I couldn’t sit down and write like I wanted to because everything needed to be edited and put into acts and compared to all the pieces we studied. When for me creativity was an act of the heart the world speaking to me. The world speaking through me. I couldn’t do it anymore I lost my passion who knew it would take 20 years to get back something that took three years to steal and rob from me.
I was thinking about people who have been abused and raped and the dreams that I have: their intensity their emotion their reality the reliving of a moment over and over again. If that had happened to me I would be dead inside, in shock inside unable to move or function.
I get like that just with the stressful things that were in my life.
Maybe I haven’t really tried, haven’t really fallen in love and felt a broken heat for a person. But my university life was so traumatic and not what I thought it was going to be that it broke my heart in more ways than a real person could.
In the past two weeks I’ve been healing the scars from the last twenty years, reaching out to people who were really there for me and explaining how thankful I was to have them and trying to find a way to bring all my friends together in the present show pictures of me in all stages of life tell stories and feel and heal.
I can’t force myself to be in a romantic relationship I can’t force myself to read a book. I can only ponder along until I find out what heals me and moves me forward. In love and or indigestion.
There will be more to come...