12/8/15

Letters to Loki # 30

Dear Sly One,

I think I am going to have writer's cramp by the end of the day. I'm trying to get caught up on page count for a project. I spent the first 4 hours of the day writing. I still have 6 pages to write to be at least where my adjusted page count should be for right now. I'm frustrated because I am over a month behind on that project. I know what has been getting in the way of it all and I am really not happy with it.

I am trying to make things work despite problems with depressive episodes and anxiety. But the more I push, the harder it gets to go forward. But if I am not pushing things at all, I have stuff that just gets more and more behind as it goes on. My therapist says that I am demanding too much of myself. She's probably right. She keeps asking me why I do it. I have a hard time explaining that I feel like I need to do that.

I have two manuscripts in progress. I have seven blogs I write on. I have housework and child rearing stuff to do. I have the Yule projects I am finishing up as gifts for people. She looks at me and tries to get me to explain why I am doing so much. I feel like I need to do it all.

I feel like if I don't write the manuscripts now they are never going to get written. I feel like if I don't keep up with the blogs I am not going to make progress with building my name as an author. The housework and child rearing stuff is necessary for obvious reasons. The Yule presents are necessary because we have a bit of a budget crunch and the time I invest into presents made saves us money down the road. I feel like I need to do all this stuff because if I don't I'm a failure.

I feel like I've been a failure too often in the past and I need to make up for it. I know it is probably all the negative programming from when I was a kid and people fucked with my head. I can't manage to shut it up any other way. The medications only work to make it where I am not literally hearing a voice saying that garbage and keep me functional. The therapy... I have no idea where the fuck the progress is going with my therapy. Beloved tells me that I am making progress. You tell me I am making progress. Damn near everybody tells me I am making progress but I just can't see it.

But that's what's on my mind right now. I'll try to get out some wine for you this evening. I think I've still got one of those single serving bottles left. If I do, it's yours. If not, I'll give you some coffee. Either way, I'll be adding something to go with the chocolate that I put out for you. Because chocolate by itself isn't half as awesome as chocolate with something tasty to go with it.

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