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I can't get this Turning Points post out of my head. I was just going to ReTweet it (from @libbabray), but I had too much to say, much more than can fit into even a long series of 140 character lines (and I have been known to Tweet long multi-Tweet essays before...). But conversely, it's TOO MUCH to say it. I may be better off just ReTweeting and linking on Facebook, leaving it hanging there with the implication of "Look, this inspired me," without trying to put it into words that will likely come out all wrong.
But I need to get it out, because I need to somehow get around to the main thing to come out of that post, which is HOPE. I need to somehow spell out where I am so I can explain why the HOPE is so vital, why it speaks to me so directly, why I've been mulling over this for the past two days.
It HAD to be mulled over. I couldn't have responded immediately, because immediately the HOPE was muddled in the typical why-you-should-never-read-about-serious-medical-issues problems of OMG I have headaches and can't concentrate and can't remember things and have been having more trouble than usual finding words to speak and have trouble forming narratives and am groggy and MAYBE THERE'S SOMETHING SERIOUSLY MEDICALLY WRONG WITH MY BRAIN. And then I remembered, yeah, there is: it's called Clinical Depression and it's SIGNIFICANTLY EASIER TO FIX THAN A STROKE.
So there's HOPE, not just that the Wrongness in my brain can be fixed, but also that it IS this Wrongness that is keeping me from writing, and that MEANS there is Hope, because it means that fixing one will fix the other. And knowing that there is hope makes it fixing the one much more possible in the first place. It's her last sentences, quoted from the post: "...it is that very time away that forms the negative space around your identity and determination and your writing. When you come back, you know who you are, more than ever. And who you are is a writer to the core."
Right. I've got my journal. I've got my occasional posts here. I've got my dreams at night, which my counselor the other night told me right out were obviously a sign that I hadn't LOST all access to the well of the Creative Spirit, I'm just having trouble channeling it right now. Now I just need to fix things and start living.
But I need to get it out, because I need to somehow get around to the main thing to come out of that post, which is HOPE. I need to somehow spell out where I am so I can explain why the HOPE is so vital, why it speaks to me so directly, why I've been mulling over this for the past two days.
It HAD to be mulled over. I couldn't have responded immediately, because immediately the HOPE was muddled in the typical why-you-should-never-read-about-serious-medical-issues problems of OMG I have headaches and can't concentrate and can't remember things and have been having more trouble than usual finding words to speak and have trouble forming narratives and am groggy and MAYBE THERE'S SOMETHING SERIOUSLY MEDICALLY WRONG WITH MY BRAIN. And then I remembered, yeah, there is: it's called Clinical Depression and it's SIGNIFICANTLY EASIER TO FIX THAN A STROKE.
So there's HOPE, not just that the Wrongness in my brain can be fixed, but also that it IS this Wrongness that is keeping me from writing, and that MEANS there is Hope, because it means that fixing one will fix the other. And knowing that there is hope makes it fixing the one much more possible in the first place. It's her last sentences, quoted from the post: "...it is that very time away that forms the negative space around your identity and determination and your writing. When you come back, you know who you are, more than ever. And who you are is a writer to the core."
Right. I've got my journal. I've got my occasional posts here. I've got my dreams at night, which my counselor the other night told me right out were obviously a sign that I hadn't LOST all access to the well of the Creative Spirit, I'm just having trouble channeling it right now. Now I just need to fix things and start living.
