Pressure

Cream on the stove bubbling over. That's a good visual for my mental state right now. Like I had been creating a custard, a delicious treat, and then the heat got to be too much. Sploosh. Everywhere. A mess.

Me.

Yeah...

I'm not really sure what my blogs have become anymore. They're just an exploration of the psyche, something raw and hopefully a little beautiful. It's the words my heart needs to write.

Pressure. Like a broiling sun cooking an egg on a pavement. Like being squished in a hug just a bit too tight and maybe by someone you don't like too much. Not to make it seem like I don't love what I'm doing. Writing is my heart and soul, it's not that I just love it, I live it. It's my blood.

But it's gotten to be so much.

There's a lot of tension in my life right now and I found that if I just focused on my writing, everything felt okay. Like if I could just control just one thing about my life, everything would work out. I thought I was following the serenity prayer.

"God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can and the wisdom to know the difference," (Serenity Prayer, Reinhold Niebuhr).

I thought I was "accepting the things I cannot change" by putting all of my efforts into writing and nothing else, but really, I was just ignoring the problem. I pretended my issues weren't real and didn't recognize that all of my stress about my financial troubles, housing situation, and so on were being added to my writing. Suddenly, my writing meant so much more than everything to me. It was supposed to be the thing that saved me.

And writing has saved me.

But it probably isn't going to solve my other issues just yet... and that's okay. It's not like my world is ending, it's just... shaking. Trembling a little bit.

So what now? How do I take my pot of cream off the stove? How do I control the temperature better so it doesn't boil over again?

I write these blogs as an exploration of my feelings. Often I don't have the answer, rather this writing is part of the answer. I'm discovering what I need along with the words on the page. I know that this is a way of acknowledging my feelings. Saying to myself, "there's a problem and writing isn't the answer" at least not in every way. I don't even want it to be the answer for everything.

I think I'm supposed to acknowledge the problem and decide to keep moving anyway, rather than seeing a problem, recognizing it, and then burying it in the recesses of my mind and hoping it will go away. Because even though I can't fix the problem (or not easily anyway), I still have to know it's there. Otherwise, I'm just putting this massive amount of pressure on something else because the feelings still bubble up through the cracks.

I have some financial troubles at the moment (but who doesn't) and I don't feel confident in my abilities. The only thing I feel that I am good at is writing. So I've been trying to find a way to support myself with my writing.

But that means my favorite thing is now ropes coiling around my body, pressing into my skin and making it hard to breathe. I want to write. I want to write.

I want to write.

But it's just so much. The heat is too high.

I just need to breathe. In...out...in...out. Breathe.

It's okay. Everything is going to be okay. It's going to work out, because it has to one way or another. Because what's the point if you don't believe that something good can happen?

You have to believe that something good is out there.

Because, if not, what's the point? Seriously.

I lived through some dark times, and that idea saved me. It feels a little naïve to have faith in a way, but I'd rather believe things would work out than not at all.

Breathe. In...out...in...out.

I don't think I can solve my problem in a single blog post (wouldn't that be nice? I think I'd be a damn good writer then). But at least I can explore my problem. Which is maybe really all I can do at this point. Sometimes all you can do is acknowledge something. If you notice the cream bubbling over, look at it, and maybe, just maybe, you can move the pot off the stove.

Happy writing,

-Aether

I’m finally back after my break from Substack. Maybe you could tell by this post, but I’ve been feeling a bit overwhelmed. My little break has helped and put things into perspective. I’m going to do my best to keep up with giving you the content you deserve (and that I want to create), while taking care of my mental health. It’s good to be back =)