I think I may be addicted blogging. It's perfect for someone with me with mild OCD. Not bad enough to be a problem, but bad enough I can check my emails over thirty times a day.
I think I may have just splattered drunken ramblings all over the world wide web of my friend's blogs.
But, and fuck you Christina, you're right. It's got me writing again. At a time where I haven't felt I have the time to write freely, it's broken the ice.
Admittedly being in London without Jack has helped time constraints considerably.
And I don't think I care anymore. Reading some of my friend's beautiful and honest blogs has really inspired me.
I'm tough when I need to be. I'm vulnerable when I need to be. I don't lose anything by admitting this. It means I'm human. I think I used to try and convince myself I was some kind of uber activist and therefore I shouldn't let anything get to me.
I didn't cry out in pain, didn't mention it at all when I got nicked. And it was really fucking painful, the most pain I've been in since childbirth (which, because of it's sustained nature, nothing ever comes close!).
The point is I can still do it. But now the pain that is left in my back, arms and wrists is a more vulnerable pain. The pain I don't like admitting to. The pain that accompanies the knowledge I have been through an ordeal I haven't managed to process. The pain that has made my writing get smaller on the page as I'm trying to write about it. My writing is trying to hide from some other part of my psyche who is battling to deal with it.
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4 comments:
Don't mention the addiction! How many hours I spend out here I really don't know, and Christina was bloody well right.
Sorry you're feeling the pain honey. There's a certain part of it that goes in deep - my back never really got 'over' the tunnel treatment. I know that a big part of that is emotional, like the whole fucking injustice of the 'law' in this country kind of creeps into the ache. But somehow, somewhere in the bigger picture we have to trust and hope every bruise or hurt from every act of defiance/questioning is weaving into a brighter future for our kids.
In the meantime, might I sugest a bottle (or some) of wine upon your return.
Thank you. And you may always suggest wine. Wine is always good.
There is some kind of lasting trauma caused by pain inflicted by big burly men (usually men - although not exclusively) who both enjoy and actively want to cause you pain.
You have great strength being so proactive, when you also suffer. I really admire you.
Ouch. Might I suggest a soul sister hippy-drippy healing weekend (minimum) when this fucking course is all over? Bit of massage, bit of chilling out, lot of wine and song???
Interested? Let's make it a date shall we?
In the meantime - you are a tough cookie and you know it. Big respect due and duly given. I feel like such a sell-out by comparison, and can only hope that it gets easier for you and soon.
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