An Open Letter To My Spirit Sister Sue,
Dear Sue, BFF, Collaborator and Board Member,
I’m having such troubles! Writer’s block like you wouldn’t believe.
OMG!! Damn!
Almost this whole time of the pandemic lock-downs, my words, the best of them, I tell you, STUCK inside of me. Stuck!! Stuck! And – me with so much to say – and write about, especially surviving and doing it optimally well.
That is if you can avoid getting sick.
Would you believe it?
Maybe I just can't write solo anymore. Could that be my problem here???
Can’t??? Wrong keyword!
Won’t is more like it!
Frequently, these days, I find myself just staring off into space, losing myself gazing at my trees, often for the better part of the day, stunned, yet feeling enormous gratitude that I'm alive and well. So are you and everyone else we know. Then, of course, I often have a few moments of tears most days about the state of things. That too takes lots some time and energy.
After that, I ask myself if there is anything else I want to do?
I never know. Truth be told, I've really all kinds of things to do -- and -- nothing at all.
This is all changing me, like most everyone else, not in ways I would have chosen by a long shot. So it occurs to me that insofar as my writing goes, I think I'm on strike.
I’m just not gonna! And nobody’s gonna make me! I can't take any more demands these days. You know there's just got to be a limit on "to dos," especially at a time like this.
My goodness!
It's my Rebellious Survivor Inner Child (RSC) acting out in my resistance to writing, these days. A.k.a. my Dark Side, she/he has taken over the management of my writing life and stalled it.
She/he appears to be on strike!
Well, I’ll be damned! Imagine that! I’m protesting.
I’m mad. I’m outraged. There's a lot of stuff I don't like at all these days.
So I'm on strike!
Spirit Sister Sue, Let’s you and I take a long look at this one, as you know I'm not prone to anger!
Me, mad? Outraged? Hope it's at least a nice Light Side anger. Not dark?? Got to check it out.
How about we talk it over, sometime later this afternoon, after I’ve taken my almost daily mountain road trek, spray washed my deck, watered all my plants and flowers, drooping from the heat, washed my dirty dishes, trying hard to keep my house clean, a true uphill battle, and am coming face to face with the fact that I've still got a lot of Jewish American Princess in me that REALLY believes I do not know how to even run a vacuum.
And You, dear Spirit Sister Sue, will have come home from taking your husband to ONE MORE doctor’s appointment, where, if you are lucky, you will have found a tree-shaded patch somewhere near his doctor's office, safely-distanced from ALMOST all others – but not quite where you sit, sometimes somberly, pondering the state you (and I and everyone else) are in, at this moment!
Oh, dear! How did it ever come to this?
More later, I do hope, guessing I’ll have to take that little stinker, my RSC, in hand – or else HE/SHE won’t let me write again.
Damn! What frustration!
Enough for now. Please send your wisdom and support
Love Anastasia
P.S. I do hope these won't be my last words before my Anastasia The Storyteller current format, retirement day, July 17, 2020.
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