I am trying very hard not to despair.
I’ll get my MFA this August and have no idea what to do with myself after that.
The torrent of words I’ve always had in my mind has slowed to a drip, drip, drip. I can’t do the phone calls for my stories I’ve contracted to do. I’m just scared, confused, and SOOOOO upset with myself at possibly letting the dream die.
Maybe I just waited too long and got too old. Maybe the fire has gone out of me. Maybe the accident just knocked the wind out of me. Maybe the whole bloody year and a half of blows have staggered me.
I’m leaving a horrible example for my kids.
I thought I could outlast everything that had been working against me to keep me from following what I ultimately wanted to do. I’m almost there for the life I thought I always wanted. And there’s no THERE there.
I’m going to see Tillie tomorrow at two. And see if we can thrash this thing out.