My mind is a whirling muddle at the moment.
The voices are shouting even louder than usual – you should be doing this, you
shouldn’t be doing that, you’re not good enough. I struggle with even the
simplest tasks and my To Do list terrifies me. I try to still the panic by
listing everything – even things I normally carry out without thinking like
checking bank statements or putting clothes away.
Yesterday morning while lying in bed
recovering from breakfast I had a thought. It’s not life that’s stressing me,
it’s The Novel. Writing The Novel is bringing the monsters out from under the
bed. And as soon as I thought that, I felt calm, and the calmness lasted for at
least an hour.
Then I forgot.
Today I plan a long dog-walk, some DailyPages, some Lightning Processes, and a pottery day catching up on jobs, in the
hope that all that will calm me down.
Then tomorrow it’s back to The Novel again.
I feel like Luke Skywalker traversing the spooky wood-bog where he finds Darth
Vader. But the exit is a long way away and I don’t know if I’ll ever make it as
a Jedi Knight.
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