I think many WordPress bloggers are great writers. I have come to love reading all their stories, commenting, following, and sharing their joys, tears and fears. But for myself, as a person who loves writing, I feel stuck. I had many things to do today. I wanted to start the story I have been itching to write for sometime, I wanted to respond to my friend’s letter although he’s becoming a bit weird and pervy, (more on that in a bit), but I found myself frozen at my computer screen.
I woke up late today. I was kind of manic last night, and stood up later than I should. I felt accomplished, so I decided to treat myself a little, even though I was fighting the drowsiness of my meds to stay up. I had gone through a lot yesterday, and I think my mind was trying to compute the whole thing.
I don’t know if it’s through the Grace of God or not that I managed to get up to take my Civil Service test early yesterday morning, but it felt like such an achievement. Me getting up at 7am with zombie-like inducing drugs raging through my system? Definite miracle for sure. But not only did I make it to the test, I stayed 4 hours to finish it, which is another humongous achievement because a lot of people got up and left within the first hour. I can’t say that I blame them for giving up, the test was SUPER difficult, because it included some advanced reading comprehension. It felt like 1996 again when I was taking an English Regents Exam. Even though it was basic common sense for most of the questions, if you, or the average person these days, are used to sitting at home scrolling through Facebook, Twitter, PinInterest, and Instagram, you would have failed miserably at this test. It made me wonder about how we have lost our ability to really read and comprehend things, as a whole, and as a society. But, I digress, I completed the test and felt good the rest of the day.
I made it home, and still wasn’t able to sit down and start writing my story. I had promised my collaborator that I would start it, since he didn’t want to, (already a disappointment because the idea for the story was basically his), but I am just thankful that I found someone who wasn’t a complete pervert to write with. I ended up being totally stuck and couldn’t get myself to sit down and even make an outline of what I wanted to write.
So I stepped away from the computer and watched “The Shack” with The Captain, and essentially cried my eyes out for the next two hours. I don’t know if it was that part of me that connected deeply with my spirituality, but that movie was so damn moving, that you would have to be heartless to not at least shed a tear.
Having found my release, I thought maybe I could begin writing, again. Still no dice. Which brings me to this moment. How come I can’t write? And why do I suddenly feel disgusting on top of everything else? It’s weird actually and I don’t know if anyone can relate, but, can someone be asexual and completely slutty at the same time? I feel like I am caught in this epic duality. I got my rocks off earlier, by shamefully showing my boobs to some random man as he talked dirty, had an earth-shaking orgasm, and then when I went to read my friend’s letter that sounded somewhat pervy, I ended up getting completely turned off. Why is it that I am not willing to engage in some kind of kinky talk, or even kinky writing, but it is acceptable to me to get off with some random disgusting freak online? Mind boggling to say the least.
I know you’re probably wondering what the point of this whole post is, and I apologize for me being all over the place, where this is ending up sounding like perpetual word vomit. But I am so lost and confused at what is going on in my head.
I don’t even know that being bipolar is even the cause of this. I mean, I was definitely manic last night, since I was dead tired and my brain was going a thousand miles an hour. But this sexual confusion, procrastinating and sudden writer’s block, is really starting to concern me.
I was literally sitting, staring at the screen, watching the cursor just blink right at me, thinking, “Fuck, I can’t do this.”
So I came here, hoping to make some sense of all of it, by getting it all out, but somehow I am now more confused than ever. There are multiple things going on, and I can’t pinpoint the problem. Thank God I have therapy tomorrow, it almost feels like it is fate that I have that appointment.
Sorry for the inconsistent rambling on this post, I can’t tell you enough how incredibly messed up I feel right now. Drinking some whiskey probably wasn’t a good idea either, but then again, when is it ever? Confusing bipolar manifestations never cease to amaze me.
(Note: This has been the hardest post I have ever written. My thoughts are completed discombobulated and unfocused. It is a miracle if it even makes sense to anyone reading).