09:34 Well I have a lot of addiction to deal with. The number one addiction at the moment being blogging addiction. It’s the weirdest thing: just over a year ago I couldn’t publish ANYTHING, and now it seems like I want to publish EVERYTHING. It’s brutal.
Anyway, I’ve made a huge creative mess everywhere, in the past seven months or so (which coincides with when I started sporadic drinking again). Physically, in the house; digitally, on my computer, and also in my relationships; particularly what I would consider to be my “professional” relationships.
I have met some amazing people online, and I got really interested in and obsessed with their projects, as I tend to, but then did not properly care for them by staying committed. Part of this definitely was wrapped up with drinking too much at times. I would drink to celebrate minor creative accomplishments, also perhaps in an attempt to relieve tension that had built up from accomplishing them; then promptly self-sabotage any progress by either drunk-blogging or hangover-blogging, then feel shame and want to hide. Very interesting, and painful, to self-destruct while observing it happen, yet not seeming to be able to stop it.
Soon I was in such a mess, and still am, that it feels impossible to get out of it. I said yes to so many things that I couldn’t possibly accomplish any of them well. I am still dealing with that mess at the moment. But I suddenly have a bit of renewed energy.
Writing that last post on gratitude helped me a lot. (Thanks for the inspiration, G4G!)
Before writing that, I felt angry with my husband for being himself. That’s not right. He works super hard, is an honest guy, is a decent dad whom the kids love. It’s me with the problem! I don’t know how he puts up with me sometimes. Then again, it’s probably partly because I put up with him, too. He’s certainly not perfect. But perhaps he still is, for me. We were never perfect to begin with, but I think we both came to the marriage with eyes wide open, and after already having made a lot of “mistakes” — well in my case, anyway. I knew who he was, complete with a bunch of faults, and he knew who I was as well, even at my most honest. So here we still are, 18 years later, still imperfect, but still together somehow. I am at a low spot, shall we say, because I’m in flux, still figuring things out. I actually think it has a lot to do with menopause. I had an amazing menopause, at age 42 (after my fourth kid weaned, my period ended, or rather never came back — except for when against my own instincts, I temporarily had an IUD installed, which caused nothing but trouble – including a lot of bleeding — until I removed it again, a few months later). My menopause, besides “hot flashes,” which I loved (but which now are fewer and fewer), involved a creative rebirth; but there are/were side effects, including self-questioning, and emotional upheaval from time to time. I hope he can bear up with me. And I hope I can bear up with him as well.
Back to the cleanup. My parents arrive soon, for a visit, from overseas. Our house currently has only two bedrooms (one for us, one for the kids) but we have a marvellous “guest caravan” for when family comes to stay. Sadly, I’ve let the marvellous guest caravan become a bit neglected. Like all things, it needs constant maintenance. Last year an animal made a hole in the bottom and got in and peed somewhere, and now it smells bad. My husband patched the hole and I’ve been working on cleaning the inside from top to bottom. It’s a huge job, a job I’ve procrastinated about for ages, but it feels good now that I’ve got going on it, and I found the pee spot. Luckily for me it was on a small rug, so no major damage. Yesterday I did the intense and detailed vacuuming job (the caravan has many windows with aerated edges, where every year, tiny spiders make their webs) and then started washing the walls, corners and floors. Today I will finish, and possibly even do a bit of renovating (painting, and maybe sewing new curtains).
Then there are the creative projects in which other people are involved. There is a lovely group of people who invited me to take part in their project, back in the fall, I said yes, got all involved and promptly ditched it when I got completely stuck on some challenging parts. It’s time to rectify that, if it’s not too late. They are wonderful people and it is an awesome project. Though I don’t feel my work nor my work ethic is good enough to be part of it anymore, I want to finish what I started and at least make my best effort to help if I can. I’m blocked by ego (I don’t want my crap to be published in their publication) and that’s my always my biggest obstacle — ego. Through my fear of not making an ass of myself I end up making the biggest ass of myself.
Besides that project, there is an interview that I asked another author to do with me. He had liked one of my posts, I read his work and got obsessed by it, he said yes to the interview, I got hugely involved in it, spent days preparing all the questions, got agonized by perfectionism, finally sent them in several versions. It took him awhile to get back to me, then he did, in several versions, I happened to receive his email while drinking, if I remember right (one of my worst drinking crimes was online socializing while drinking, including answering emails and particularly late at night — i.e. after normal “office” hours); I was very excited and wrote back some gushy reply off the cuff, then the next day felt like total crap and so I buried the whole thing under the virtual carpet. How awful. Now I have to finally deal with that mess I made as well. It basically means doing a lot of actual work (editing, formatting, making some creative decisions about which parts of our incredibly lengthy written conversation to publish). And I am apparently allergic to work. All I want to do is sit and type, sit and type, sit and type.
So now I must stop sitting and typing, and actually do some work, not to mention looking after the kids, who have suddenly started a hyena-laughter-filled wrestling match in the hallway outside my door.
Time for spring cleaning. This winter was a particularly muddy one.
Love and peace,
one sobriety-loving person