have you seen my muse?
have you seen my muse?
I was staring at the monitor, and then the keyboard, trying to summon up the muse to create today's post. But as has happened a few times over the past few days, the muse seems to be sleeping. Hence the penis posts.
I'm nervous that the Paxil is dulling me. It could be just the natural ebb and flow of my cycle, where sometimes I am creative and prolific and sometimes I can't even write a limerick. But it worries me that it's something else.
It's been a week now, and today my dose gets doubled and I am taking stock of the past week. Well, the past two days. Because honestly, in the last two days I have felt subtle changes. I feel calmer, more relaxed, like the "ants in my pants" that my mother always complained about are gone. I can sit and play a game of Scrabble with Justin and not feel like I need to be doing three other things at the same time. I have a bit more patience with the kids. I don't feel like I am living in a constant state of rushing off somewhere.
People have noticed. People who have no idea that I am taking anything have commented that I look more relaxed or I seem happier. Happy? Me? No one has ever called me that. Is this what I want? I mean, I've always been happy for the most part, at least in the last three years. But I always had that cynical edge to keep the pretty bunnies/happy flowers part of me from taking over. I like the simmering anger part of me. It's what keeps me motivated. It's what keeps me creative and keeps me writing and makes me want to change the world.
What I want is to lose the anxiety without losing everything else. Perhaps I am looking too hard into things. Maybe my cynicism and sarcasm are still there, but just not present at the moment because I am tired. It's been a long two weeks, I am still having bizarre dreams every night that keep me feeling exhausted, so maybe that's why I sit here to write and my mind can't find the words I want to say.
I'm still nervous about losing any part of me except the part I wanted to get rid of. I don't want to lose my passion for the things that I love. If I lose my ability to write, I lose me. Everything I gain by taking that little pill each morning will be overshadowed by the fact that I can't write anymore.
Of course, I may still be in that old mode of making mountains out of molehills. The worrying part of my is not going to go away overnight. That's just my nature. But if one more day goes by where I can't think of anything interesting to say or an interesting way in which to say it, I am going to have to seriously rethink my options.
I don't want to be selfish. I know the small changes that have appeared in the past few days are things that have made a big difference to those around me. I just don't want my creativity to be dulled. I don't want the words to dry up. Because without these words, I am only part of me. I've been writing since I'm old enough to hold a pencil. What if I wasted my whole life saying "I'll become a writer tomorrow" and now tomorrow is never going to come? What if the words have dried up already?
I know, I'm over reacting. That's just a part of me that will never go away, no matter how many pills I pop a day. At least, I hope I am over reacting. I hope that I'm just tired or going through a lull or my brain just wants a little break. I hope my muse didn't pack up and leave town. I mean, what if my anxiety was my muse?
I don't even want to think about that.