Letter R is for resignation and the acceptance of unwanted things.
A to Z entries: My post for each letter of the alphabet will be anecdotes or musings based on an element from the previous letter’s post. Names always changed, events always real.
~ Letter Q was for Quitting, and so now a different sort of…resignation. ~
How do you write what you planned about rhythm or roaming, or something that relates the two together, when you sit with the likes of an avocado pit in your throat while staring at the computer generated “blank page?”
I have inadvertently hurt a friend. I write each word now with a ten second pause in between, processing her words and waiting for the squeeze in my chest to give way to comfortable breathing.
I’ve long learned that if I have, for example, an audition, I must avoid all potential conflict just prior to, because I’m not able to shake off the emotions before getting on camera.
The emotional disquietude that plagues me if someone feels wronged by me is immobilizing. Even if it’s unjustified and due to misinterpretation on their part. Their pain, reflected back to me, is stronger than my will, just as kicking in my legs from behind would make me fall to my knees.
In this, my fifty-first post, I stare at the screen with unfocused eyes and my head murmuring, I don’t want to do this anymore. I have fallen to my knees.
Is it because when someone tells you that you’re the author of their injury, in a way they’re also telling you that they love you?
Once we bring this responsibility of love to each other’s attention, I tumble down a brambly descent of self-hate and distress over how hard I now must work to deserve such love. Why do we feel we owe something to those who love us? Do we fear we’d wither without them?
She felt slighted. There is nothing outlandish about the story — people feel hurt for a hundred unremarkable reasons. How she arrived is secondary to where she ended up: Hurt. By me. But it’s me who’s knocked to the ground by the force of the rebound.
If I had read her email four hours ago, this post might still be about roaming or rhythm. But all I have is the death of motivation and catatonia of passion, and pushing through with drivel is maiming what little will remains.
For tonight, I’m resigned. I have nothing of value to say.
And so I will stop.
~ Part of the A to Z Challenge ~
A post a day except Sunday for the month of April to cover topics beginning with each letter of the alphabet.
Cathartic Monkeyism returns in May.
◊ Thanks for your comments, shares and likes. Most of all, sincere thanks for reading.
◊ If you enjoy and want more GG, do sign up!
◊ You can also follow GG verbal and pictorial missives on Twitter, Facebook and Instagram.
You’re the best part of blogging
~ so tell me everything ~
WordPress informs me that below this paragraph, some random ad might appear unless I spring for the no-ad upgrade. If so, apologies.