My current romance project has me thinking, why did I lean so heavily into my stories of grief and loss? Of pain and trials? Certainly, it makes for a good story simply because of the conflict that comes of that, but it was something more. I was working under the assumption that a sad story is a good story.
Is there such a thing? Is it really a problem that I know think in terms of ‘paint’, ‘death drops’ and ‘tucks’? I know it ain’t a problem that I am feeling all the sass that comes with it. I actually finger snapped at my partner yesterday.
I haven’t been particularly busy on my blog, which always happens when I forget what my point of view is. I guess it never really occurs to me that a shifting point of view, in flux, is still valid. I don’t need to know the ins and outs of an issue or an idea to write about it, or even feel comfortable bringing it up.
I think that after all this time I still come to think of my life as hitting ‘milestones.’
Moved in together. Tick. Got a cat. Tick. Full time corporate job. Tick. And now, Degree. Tick.
I have this weird thing about feeling responsible for someone else’s anger.
Now I knew it would be hard. I sit at my computer for most of the day, having a desk job. Covid has meant that I only need to journey form one room to the other to get my work done, I have about 2 friends so best believe I’m not out clubbing every evening. I lead a pretty static lifestyle.
I understand that not everyone is going to think the same thing when it comes to the big labels. But what frustrates me is the fact that these things have to be categorized so rigidly in the first place and then when your experience is different from the ‘typical’ affliction, you are an outlier and then it is more difficult being understood.
Before I fell off the face of the earth – I wrote about trying to wade my way through the Big Sad – and things I was trying to do to remain in control while my emotions spiralled.
I’m pretty sure I mentioned before that I’m terrible at doing nothing. That I need to have a ridiculous amount of schedules and daily routines to feel settled on any given day.
I have to say this has gotten so much better with the addition of one little thing.
I am interested in how we feel it and in fact, how we feel about it. Because I’m so f**king scared of pain, even though I’ve lived through all kinds of it and I live well. I’m at peace, but is it the strange sort of peace that sits on a frozen pond? Will it sink to the depths with the changing seasons?