I'm not really sure what to write here tonight. I've been dealing with something lately, although I'm not sure what it is. My emotions have been abnormally close to the surface for the past several weeks. I've been having some uncomfortable dreams, some not so uncomfortable and some just silly, although I don't really feel like sharing them right now. But thanks to those dreams, I haven't been sleeping well. I was dog-tired all day today. I've had people tell me I look tired on several occasions lately. I get enough hours of sleep, but the quality is just not there.
Several months ago, I was feeling really confident in myself, my future and plans to change the world. The song "Firework" by Katy Perry really spoke to my heart. But lately, that spark just isn't there. I'm still confident, but not in a "blazing brightly" kind of way. Before, I had plans to write my book and didn't question (much) what would happen after that. Now I worry how I'm ever going to make it good enough to get published and the recognition I so deeply desire. I wonder what I'm really going to be able to do to help survivors. I want to revolutionalize the way our culture views survivors. I want them to understand. In theory, my book would help do that. In theory, the support group I'm trying to start up this semester will be a very small step towards helping that. But even there I feel clueless. What do I know about running a support group? It reminds me of the children's poem by Shel Silverstein:
Whatif
Several months ago, I was feeling really confident in myself, my future and plans to change the world. The song "Firework" by Katy Perry really spoke to my heart. But lately, that spark just isn't there. I'm still confident, but not in a "blazing brightly" kind of way. Before, I had plans to write my book and didn't question (much) what would happen after that. Now I worry how I'm ever going to make it good enough to get published and the recognition I so deeply desire. I wonder what I'm really going to be able to do to help survivors. I want to revolutionalize the way our culture views survivors. I want them to understand. In theory, my book would help do that. In theory, the support group I'm trying to start up this semester will be a very small step towards helping that. But even there I feel clueless. What do I know about running a support group? It reminds me of the children's poem by Shel Silverstein:
Whatif
- Last night, while I lay thinking here,
Some Whatifs crawled inside my ear
And pranced and partied all night long
And sang their same old Whatif song:
Whatif I'm dumb in school?
Whatif they've closed the swimming pol?
Whatif I get beat up?
Whatif there's poison in my cup?
Whatif I start to cry?
Whatif I get sick and die?
Whatif I flunk that test?
Whatif green hair grows on my chest?
Whatif nobody likes me?
Whatif a bolt of lightning strikes me?
Whatif I don't grow talle?
Whatif my head starts getting smaller?
Whatif the fish won't bite?
Whatif the wind tears up my kite?
Whatif they start a war?
Whatif my parents get divorced?
Whatif the bus is late?
Whatif my teeth don't grow in straight?
Whatif I tear my pants?
Whatif I never learn to dance?
Everything seems swell, and then
The nighttime Whatifs strike again!
I guess I'm just in a little bit of a dark place right now.
Like I said, I don't really have much to say here tonight. I just wanted to say I'm here, and once I process whatever it is I'm dealing with, I'll fill you in.
Here's hoping I get some good sleep tonight.
Rachel
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