I didn’t allow myself to be completely destroyed by the unexpected arrival of migraine yesterday. Instead, after a couple of hours laying on my bed in the dim light, I got up and returned phone calls, dodged the question “Are you ok?” and then got out of the house.
When I got home, my head was slandering my equilibrium like a bad penny. I got in bed and went to sleep.
I don’t want to hurt anymore. I don’t want to wander through this swamp another minute. It’s true, I do want to search and express what comes up from the deep seas of my mind and heart. I must. There’s no choice. I realize that setbacks, moods, panic, and even periods of complete blankness are par for the course. There’s no creativity store I can [color=#999999]or would even want to[/color] go get a job at, so this path is mine, and it’s for me to own and walk. But I am bruised, and somewhere between completely exhausted and supercharged. So rather than continue to struggle and fight against the conflicting emotions, I’m going to try to make note of them, record them, sing them, write them, and stop looking at things in the world as if they are each secret messages for my self-esteem. I am going to flicker like the golden dust I am, and be myself.
Headache or no headache, it’s time to move ‘em up and head ‘em out. This lonesome cowboy is headed west…
