“You should have a creative outlet.”

This is not a particularly profound insight, nor would anybody involved expect it to be interpreted as such. But such as things are, sometimes stating the obvious is merited, and I cannot argue with the message, or the delivery. My patterns are stale, and my awareness of them is stale, and the cycles of aversion and avoidance, while so worn thin to transparency, still function as well as brick walls when it comes to stopping me in my tracks. “I should…” is almost always followed by “…at some point.”  All such points are always conveniently around a corner, out of arms reach, or on an awkwardly high shelf.  The common thread these days, however, is:  When I am less tired.

When the fog clears, when I can focus, when my brain works, I will do the things. The things had better settle in. I hope they brought a snack.

It is two weeks, minus 13 hours, since my therapist made her declaration.  I think we were talking about my crazy dreams at the time, saying I should blog them or something. “I have a blog, actually.”   (no immediate sense of shame and failure lunged at me when I said that, no sirree.)  I’ve spent two weeks and 13 hours thinking about the hassle of finding old passwords and remembering how to use wordpress, and all the other imaginary obstacles that don’t warrant a sliver of respect, all in service to the patterns of avoidance.   What changed?  In 13 hours I’ll be back on that couch, faced with two possibilities:  I didn’t do my homework, or I did.  Am I going to feel like a failure because secretly I know all my excuses are garbage, and wallowing in how depressing it is that using a laptop is, like, hard?  Or am I going to feel like an idiot claiming victory because i logged into a website and typed for few minutes?

Victory, bitches!

Maybe next week I’ll write down a dream or something.  (Ugh, typing ‘down a dream’ made me sad about Tom Petty.)