The last week was a blur with frequent fires at work depleting any excess energy that hadn’t already been zapped by my self-sabotaging inner critics (and, honestly, utter boredom with a job that continues to drain my creative juices, clogging my outlets with giant hairballs). I joked on Thursday with one of my co-workers that my hands, feet and bum all had blisters due to my attempts to put out the various fires. He knew the same pain. It was a bad week at the workhouse for everyone.
The problem, of course, is that none of us have ever had firefighters training… 😉
By the time I dragged myself home every night – well past the mandatory 9 hours – I was too exhausted to devote myself to freeing the inner creative me (the double- and triple-knots holding her in too much to be burdened with in my numbed state – never mind the blistered fingers!). The most I was able to do was browse the sites of other AWer’s – which, while enriching and inspiring (not to mention – again – humbling), made me retreat further into my own self-doubt.
Yes, the pity party is in full-swing.
Thankfully, I don’t like parties, so it is short-lived.
Morning pages? Um, let’s just say that they haven’t been done consistently. Morning is NOT my time of day and the chatter throughout the days has just been too much to overcome. By late evening, the drone is so loud and incessant that I half expect the police to show up and site me for disturbing the peace! (If a good thing can be said it’s that the chatter is becoming more frantic – a sure sign that the inner critics are worried that their voices are soon to be silenced. This has happened before – the last time I tackled AW… Unfortunately, that last time was sabotaged by outside distractions, and the critics moved back in and brought their extended families!)
Tomorrow is a fresh start – and I already have my notebook and pen on the bed awaiting the new day.