The is the fear. The never ending barrage of 'what ifs'. The seeking for knowledge that you hope will give you a stable place to stand before taking the next step. The craving for something to tell you which way to go, which road to take. To stand up with flashing neon signs that assure you that this way is the right one.
I don't wish to compare the craft of writing and the work of a surgeon's hand, I only wish to convey the place where my feet rest on the path of my life.
A couple months ago I was diagnosed with severe Endometriosis. It is a condition where the lining of the uterus gets a wild hair up its ass and decides to grow where ever it choose. (pardon my highly medical terminology). This condition is different for every woman that has it. For me, the growths are everywhere, infesting my pelvic wall and cuddling too close to some other organs it has no business being friendly with. In a nutshell, it is very, very, annoyingly, nauseatingly painful. (and I have a pain tolerance that should be ranked as a super power according to people that know me).
You see, I am not one to admit to pain nor do I happily acknowledge it. I prefer to ignore it, push it down, pretend it is happening to someone else. This is not healthy and I know that. No one ever forced me to mask my pain. No one ever got in my face and screamed "There's no crying in baseball." This is just who I am. But now, I am facing something that I can't ignore, no matter how hard I try. In the past year, I have undergone two surgeries and a few different treatments...all in vain. I am now looking at a surgery that will change my foreseeable future, a total hysterectomy. I am twenty six, no kids...
It is a big deal and I know that. I have researched options, I know the risks, the benefits, and I have made a well thought out decision but that doesn't make it easy.
Now what does this have to do with my writing? Oddly, some of the fears are the same. Some are not logical, I can admit that, but both put me in a place where I am vulnerable. (and this is NOT my c
omfort zone).
I am also at a place where I know that my first novel needs to be cut to pieces. It needs to be gutted, rearranged and sown together in way that more efficient, effective.
Like the surgery I face, I now it needs to happen and I know the way things are function in its own way but it not optimal...not in the slightest. And it things keep going the way they are...improvement is not in sight. I think too often we settle for how things are because of fear. We know things are bad but we would rather deal with bad then with facing the terrifying step in a new direction. We stay with bad because some jacked up part of brain has convinced us that it's safe...bad is not safe. Stuck is not progress and fear is part of the human condition. Fear will always be there but to make bad into better that fear is something we must step through....something I must step through.
These next few months are going to hard...and I hate to admit that but I have faith that in the end, stepping through the fear will be worth every second...with my writing and my health.
