Sandpaper and Grit

Words have fallen to the ground like soiled garments long since expired of their usefulness. I have reached into the hat for inspiration and have come back with only the shadow of my fingers unfurling from the desperate grasps for something meaningful. I thought I could push myself from this moment but my momentum is coming to a halt.

Since I found out about the divorce I have not allowed myself to stand still. I instantly started applying to new jobs, 12 in one day, and I started calculating how to add up all my current debt and how to prepare myself for the incoming debt that would result from starting life over again. I’ve been in a constant state of motion. In Portland I spent time with all my friends; sure, I slept on the couch or I put myself into the corner on the air mattress if another friend was borrowing the couch that night – but it was a community. I think that’s what really kept me sane throughout the months. The community.

I’ve got my new job and my new apartment. I have tackled my job as strongly as I can but I am limited by the stages of training and the loopholes. I’m currently being set back because of yet another background check that must be orchestrated by The Man. The setback is a result of their information not matching my information. This is a problem with being a Returned Peace Corps Volunteer. It’s really hard to followup on your whereabouts, especially when your former home became a war-zone and most the people you used to associate with have left.

I am still now. I am without the community. I can find new people, I can make more of an effort, but the lethargy is potent. It is a physical force that is holding me at bay. My writing has been slumping off more and more over the last half year. Today is actually, as of this moment, this first time I haven’t been under some kind of influence for three weeks. My goal is to make it to Friday to see if that will kick loose my brain and ambition.    I’ve started over before, numerous times, but this is the first time I’m starting over against my will. I’m sure I’m just preaching to the choir and that there are a number of you that have been through this, perhaps more than once, but it is so much different when there is so much skin in the game.

This is another reason I don’t gamble – I get addicted to betting higher and higher, and I never know when to cash in.

 

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