You Have Forgotten.

I have not written anything for months.

Even now, I am fighting the empty pressure in my head. In normal conversation I've been doing fine, but every time I sit down at my laptop, typewriter, notebook, or anything- nothing. I get nothing.

"Read something! Prime the pump!"

I have been. The Atonement: Four Views, The War of Art, some Kipling, and I recently rediscovered two of my earliest journals, circa. 2004. Just reconnecting with that voice, that person- is a painful and troubling experience; the kind of experience that formerly provoked all kinds of discussion and narrative in my head.

But not today. Not for months.

Without a doubt, I got more feedback from my last post than all other things I have ever written combined. Some of it affirmative, some of it advising, some of it critical and dissuasive.

In writing, I feel that I can hold my ground. I can transform my thoughts into the words that I feel best carry my meaning. I don't feel the pressure of someone else's moment-by-moment emotions. Good or bad. Especially bad, though. Disappointment, hurt, anger, disdain- any of the feelings that get expressed during conflict in relationships. When those emotions start manifesting in front of me, they become hijackers on my train of thought. They tell me that I've done something wrong. They tell me I need to fix something.

And I start backing down. Looking for ways to discredit my motives so that I can agree with the feeling that this was my mistake, so then I can fix it. Apologizing. Floundering.

Then, months later, I sit in the quiet of my home, trying to coax my voice out of wherever-the-hell it went.

And I feel this blank pressure. This internal block.

I feel like my inside-self is in there, gnashing his teeth, totally unwilling to open up. Because sure as he does, I'm gonna throw us both under the bus again. I'll cave. I'll say I was wrong to have done it like I did it. I'll make it my responsibility to change or discredit myself adequately to neutralize the conflict.

I came across a forgotten, unpublished entry on my blog from back in March. It was a single sentence that read,

"How little does it take to shut me down?"

Not that I want to feel capable of streamrolling over people or not care what they're feeling/saying. But I struggle to be true to myself in conflict. That's the problem. Hell, I struggle to be true to myself at all. Even when it's positive feedback; that can become a hijacker. And sure, while some people want me to neutralize the conflict or address their concerns, no one wants me to like I do.

No one has my back less than me.

And after months of blank, months of trying to say anything, I feel like, right now, I finally see that.

That's gonna have to stop.