Dear Diary, unfortunately, writing has been almost impossible lately.\u00a0 For people on the outside looking in, allow me to give a bit of insight.\u00a0 With my mental limitations, it is extraordinarily difficult, if not practically impossible, to pre-plan my writings with any degree of reliability.\u00a0 I write things from the heart, on the spot, in one sitting.\u00a0 Much of this has to do with memory capabilities and emotional states of being. In real terms, that means all conditions for success have to be in place simultaneously for such writings to occur.\u00a0 To compare that to life on Earth:\u00a0 we orbit the right kind of star, within the proper distance for liquid water to exist, and have the correct elements in our planetary makeup, et al., for life to be possible.\u00a0 If our star was hotter, or we orbited further out, etc., life wouldn’t have evolved on Earth.\u00a0 Akin to that, I grow frustrated when I can’t write when the conditions are improper.<\/p>\n
There are times wherein I feel blank and detached.\u00a0 I feel empty, and I struggle to hear any internal movement at all.\u00a0 I go through life’s motions vaguely aware of existence itself, bound to consciousness by pain.\u00a0 I make efforts to find anything appealing to grasp and use it as an anchor point to pull myself back.\u00a0 Other times I feel overwhelmed and struggle to identify what I think or feel.\u00a0 The deluge of voices and feelings makes accomplishing anything substantial difficult as I spend a great deal of conscious time and energy trying to manage myself, and ultimately find the best course of action is non-action.\u00a0 Doing nothing prevents me from making anything worse, a lesson learned the hard way over time.<\/p>\n
The see-saw of hollow and panic is exhausting and crippling.\u00a0 If there aren’t periods of rest and productivity, I begin to become anxious and feel guilty.\u00a0 These last several weeks are one such period.\u00a0 I can look in the mirror and chalk part of it up to extraordinary physical pain levels and another part of it up to election anxiety, but I wholly dislike making excuses.\u00a0 I have still been trying to be productive in the creative sphere, even if at a reduced capacity.\u00a0 I sit with myself and feel the tears flow freely down my face.\u00a0 However, I can’t pinpoint why, and that is a spiral I have to recognize and not allow myself to travel down.<\/p>\n
I often feel I should be doing more.\u00a0 Even writing the word ‘should’ makes me wince. The ‘should’ trap is infinite, and I don’t know how to escape from it.\u00a0 I should be doing this; I should be more of that.\u00a0 The periods in time wherein I have brief moments of acceptance and tranquility are frustrated by the constant stepping in the ‘should’ traps.\u00a0 The only one making more demands of myself is me, but I cannot recall when I have been happy with myself.<\/p>\n
The past is a blur of intermingled tragedies and fleeting human moments struggling against dark backdrops while we hold out hope for a brighter future against clear evidence of a painful present.\u00a0 We learn the harsh truths that we are the cause of all of the world’s problems, and we suffer watching people hurt one another with intent.\u00a0 I try to let go of the weight of the world, to find an individual peace while the profiteers of hate and their willing minions burn the world we work so hard to create.\u00a0 The lines between countries and cultures are arbitrary.\u00a0 We are people who, at our core, want the same things.\u00a0 Our potential is far from being achieved, but we are the burden placed on our shoulders.<\/p>\n
People are so scared; they are pumped full of fear every day.\u00a0 It’s sad to live in a world wherein wanting monsters to be monsters, not people, is a radical idea.\u00a0 It’s sad to live in a world wherein wanting love to be the common currency, not fear, is a revolutionary idea.\u00a0 It’s sad to live in a world wherein people feel they need to live vicariously through fiction because life comes up short.\u00a0 We have unlocked many secrets of the universe!\u00a0 We can create a planet that functions for the masses, or is that too much to ask?<\/p>\n
COVID-19 has brought to the forefront weaknesses in our society’s fabric that has been simmering for ages.\u00a0 While many of us have are casualties of the fight bending the long arc towards justice, there exist plenty of people still who at least pretend to be blind to the problems within and all around them.\u00a0 The veil has been lifted;\u00a0 our racism, religion and anti-intellectualism, sexism, xenophobia, (and more) problems aren’t fringe issues afflicting only crazy uncles at family gatherings.\u00a0 These problems have a substantial core of people who subscribe to them.\u00a0 Hate has a home, and hate doesn’t have to hide.<\/p>\n
Through the red haze of hatred, people are surviving and accomplishing goals.\u00a0 I feel like I am floundering at the edge of failure,\u00a0 struggling to maintain a semblance of serenity.\u00a0 When one looks beyond the ticker headlines of the day, there are so many things for which to cheer.\u00a0 Whether we look at scientific advancements or people being everyday heroes and reminding us not all hope is lost, we can cheer.\u00a0 Yet, I cannot seem to shake consistent feelings of impending doom and regret every mistake I’ve ever made.\u00a0 Whenever I carve out a place of peace for myself, it doesn’t take long for all of what I carved out to rush back in again. At this point, if peace did come, I think I would be afraid, the proverbial waiting for the shoe to drop as it were.\u00a0 I hope\u00a0 I don’t sabotage myself when the day comes when the tears are of joy instead of everything but joy, as they are now.\u00a0 We have overcome many trials in our evolution.\u00a0 I would like to have hope we can be better; I would like to have hope I can be better.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Dear Diary, unfortunately, writing has been almost impossible lately.\u00a0 For people on the outside looking in, allow me to give a bit of insight.\u00a0 With my mental limitations, it is extraordinarily difficult, if not practically impossible, to pre-plan my writings with any degree of reliability.\u00a0 I write things from the heart, on the spot, in […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_et_pb_use_builder":"","_et_pb_old_content":"","_et_gb_content_width":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[304],"tags":[291,263,123,168,330,32],"class_list":["post-27880","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-dear-diary","tag-291","tag-anxiety","tag-cycles","tag-hope","tag-rest","tag-self"],"yoast_head":"\n