![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Entry tags:
Lost and found
It's been a long year.
I moved out twice, and wasn't able to get the phone or internet until yesterday.
I went through a lot.
My thoracic cage got squashed. I still have trouble breathing, months afterwards. I cut my left index finger - not "off", but it was a short call. But that's okay, now.
I got a permanent job. Great ! So great that I drunk champagne to celebrate.
Then I got lost.
A few months before, I knew I wanted to write. The path seemed obvious, if steep. All I needed to do was to keyboard my way up to new stories. To make these stories better, I also had to live a life rich of experiences. Paying the rent, having a job, was a way to get there.
Over the months paying the rent stopped being a mean to achieve something. It became an objective, the sole occupation of my days and nights.
I stopped going to the army. I stopped watching birds. After the accident that damaged my finger, I stopped playing music and I stopped running (I cut myself just before one of my weekly runs).
I stopped drawing.
I stopped writing.
I couldn’t even remember Skoukla. This place that I mentioned in one of my stories (“Stay in Touch”) had become “my mental writing zone”. My imaginary, but necessary, safe place. And I forgot it !
I forgot it for a job I hated !
I didn't know what was wrong. I was working hard, putting all my energy into my job. Nothing else mattered. When I moved out for the second time, I was already so angry, so unhappy, and so lost, that I could only tell the person I love above everyone else : "I'm dying ! Don't you understand ? I'm dying !"
As if he could have done anything.
A few weeks ago, I finally broke down.
I'm on sick leave, on and off. I'm physically fine, I'm not even depressed. I suffer from a bad case of burn-out.
See ? Two days after I broke down, I started running again. I went out to watch birds. Phoned long lost friends. I played music -- the finger hurts, but I can cope with that.
Then I remembered my fanfics, like a naughty pleasure hidden in a drawer. I read "Stay in Touch". The first few pages sounded like someone else's story. Then I remembered. Hedlir, first -- a squishy OC who is close to my heart. I remembered the fun I had while searching info about Belladonna.
I remembered Skoukla.
It hit me like a wave. Turned me over.
I was finding myself again.
This happened last week.
I've written 5000 words since.
I moved out twice, and wasn't able to get the phone or internet until yesterday.
I went through a lot.
My thoracic cage got squashed. I still have trouble breathing, months afterwards. I cut my left index finger - not "off", but it was a short call. But that's okay, now.
I got a permanent job. Great ! So great that I drunk champagne to celebrate.
Then I got lost.
A few months before, I knew I wanted to write. The path seemed obvious, if steep. All I needed to do was to keyboard my way up to new stories. To make these stories better, I also had to live a life rich of experiences. Paying the rent, having a job, was a way to get there.
Over the months paying the rent stopped being a mean to achieve something. It became an objective, the sole occupation of my days and nights.
I stopped going to the army. I stopped watching birds. After the accident that damaged my finger, I stopped playing music and I stopped running (I cut myself just before one of my weekly runs).
I stopped drawing.
I stopped writing.
I couldn’t even remember Skoukla. This place that I mentioned in one of my stories (“Stay in Touch”) had become “my mental writing zone”. My imaginary, but necessary, safe place. And I forgot it !
I forgot it for a job I hated !
I didn't know what was wrong. I was working hard, putting all my energy into my job. Nothing else mattered. When I moved out for the second time, I was already so angry, so unhappy, and so lost, that I could only tell the person I love above everyone else : "I'm dying ! Don't you understand ? I'm dying !"
As if he could have done anything.
A few weeks ago, I finally broke down.
I'm on sick leave, on and off. I'm physically fine, I'm not even depressed. I suffer from a bad case of burn-out.
See ? Two days after I broke down, I started running again. I went out to watch birds. Phoned long lost friends. I played music -- the finger hurts, but I can cope with that.
Then I remembered my fanfics, like a naughty pleasure hidden in a drawer. I read "Stay in Touch". The first few pages sounded like someone else's story. Then I remembered. Hedlir, first -- a squishy OC who is close to my heart. I remembered the fun I had while searching info about Belladonna.
I remembered Skoukla.
It hit me like a wave. Turned me over.
I was finding myself again.
This happened last week.
I've written 5000 words since.