I'm having this wonderful weird experience. All my triggers are gone. All my compulsive inner feelings of "victim-hood" seem to be gone. It's like, I have this sense of "it's over." No more need, almost a compulsion I had for three years, gotta write another story, there's another story, there's another story. All of a sudden I'm not seeing the stories anymore. My brain tells me I should be sad, as there is an ending that happened here, but the feeling I really feel is more like anticipation. Like there was this thing that had me so full up for so long, there wasn't room for anything else. Now there's plenty of room and it's exciting wondering what will fill me up next.
That compulsion to write stories was accompanied by this dark thing, like a wet cloud hanging over me. And that thing is gone too, I can almost see it now, leaving, getting more distant. I keep saying to myself, I finished what I had to do, but I'm not sure what that was. Almost like a sci fi movie, I'm this space creature saying, "People of Earth, My work here is over," but I'm not leaving the planet any time soon. I'm going to spend the next 20 years or so enjoying this planet. Earth is this colorful musical place. I've been working too hard too long. It's like God told me I could finally retire. On Super Bowl Sunday...
I don't know how to explain it, it's been a weird month, but I feel really happy, everything is new, viewed from a different perspective. I don't have this Thing I Need To Do anymore and it's so- freeing.
kay ebeling piping in on a cool Friday in February