Thursday, May 29, 2008
I halfway didn't even want to put this here, because I want to be a positive, supportive sparker, not a "whiner baby." But I'm really hurting right now, and I figured it would be better to get it off my chest now and be authentic than pretend that everything is ok.
To spare everyone the long, drawn out, writerly rant, let's just say that I had a miserable experience with my writing workshop last night, to the degree I question my capabilities as a writer. I really begin to wonder if I'm not just dreaming and should hang it up and give up. It hurts so bad I can't stand it. I've wanted to write since I was 8. Eight! Most kids that age want to be doctors or ballerinas. And now I feel like all the joy I've had from writing is being corroded away. I'm really beginning to think that I'm just fooling myself and I should find a real job.
What's depressing is that my immediate response to all this is to stop eating. Yep, that looming dragon of disordered eating became my first solution for dealing with the pain right now. And I hate myself for even considering it. It's just disgusting that even when I think I'm finally past all that, it's the first thing I turn to when stressed.
What's wrong with me?