It’s been a while since I’ve written here. Over four months, actually. Part of me wants to come down on myself and say I failed at this blog or writing because of that. I know that’s not true. I only started this as a way to get back into writing. And I did. Though, I haven’t written at all in at least a month and a half. Here comes that little voice telling me I’ve failed because of that, too. I know that’s not true, as well. Even if I’ve been on hiatus-intentional or not, I’ve still written over 300 pages of a book. Some of those pages came from the very core of me. Some of them feel forced. Some of them are funny. Some are sad. Some of them make my heart bounce around in my rib cage and yearn for something I’ll never have again. Some of them suck and a lot of those pages will probably need rewritten. But, I wrote them. Good or bad. I focused long enough to produce a few hundred pages of something. I’ve never done that before.
I guess I need to realize that even though they’re not perfect, they’re proof that I’m trying. They’re proof that I’m not stuck in my life, because truth be told; I feel stuck in my life. I’m not sure if I really am (even though, let’s face it, I’m not exactly happy at this moment in my life about ‘life’) or if I’m just impatient and my impatience coupled with my ever-increasing anxiety makes me feel like my life needs to take off. And take off now.
I don’t know why I needed to write this tonight. Except maybe this. At work today, a brand new (temporary) job of only three weeks, I cried in the bathroom. It’s too early for that. I’ve done it at every job. But, this job is different. It’s in a hospital. It has nothing to do with medicine or saving lives…it’s in an office. But still, it’s in a hospital. I hate hospitals. I hate them. Yesterday, when I left, there was a family outside the emergency room and most members were crying. I knew in my gut someone died or was dying. I felt sick. I felt sad. I felt their pain. Today, a woman in the office mentioned that a woman had passed away in the emergency room yesterday. I don’t usually suffer from anxiety attacks, but I did today. Luckily nobody saw me, but I had to go to the bathroom before they did. I was overcome with sadness for that family I saw yesterday and for the woman who passed. I was sad and anxious and shaking. I was instantly sick to my stomach. Also, I kept thinking of my mom and all the times she’s been in that very emergency room. She’s fine, thank God, but the feelings were still the same. I don’t belong in a hospital. Most who know me would probably agree. I’m weird to begin with about many things, but add death and sadness to it and I just do not belong. Not to mention, they announce ‘code blue’ and other emergencies over the loud speakers and every time they do, I feel sick.
Anyway, I’m not sure how my day at work lead to me needing to write a blog post again after four months of not posting anything. Maybe, if nothing else, it’s just a way to relieve some of the anxiety and stress. Maybe it’s just a way to talk into the open void.
I’m hoping to get a new job very soon. And, hoping to get my head back into writing my book.