Okay, so I might have been a bit overly dramatic in my last post. I'm not planning on retiring from music and/or writing. I don't think I could even if I wanted to. At some point in the future I will be compelled to play music again although I haven't since my last open mic bloodbath. Not to mention the irony of writing about my retirement from writing. I was planning on using this as a jumping off point to got into a deep, French, theoretical discussion of Irony in all its wonders. But I will spare you the intellectual fireworks and stick with the savor of brevity. (Mark my words, I will return to the subject of Irony, and when I do, it will be with the energy of the rush of the bulls in Pamplona.)
I wasn't clear in my last post, but I wasn't intending to retire from the blog. The blog is easy. If I want to just post a song one week, that's all I gotta do. Retiring from writing last week meant retiring from the difficult task of writing fiction, short stories specifically. In part, this was related to the brutal feedback I received in my class. In part, this was related to learning, again, that writing is really hard, and if you want to write well, it demands time, attention, energy, focus and, most importantly, re-writing.
I've taken two things out of my life for the moment: playing music and writing fiction. Because of this, I've had to re-examine my priorities and think about who I am. New identity. Missing parts. For the moment, no longer the ambitious, newbie, musician; no longer the ambitious, newbie, author. This week I've felt empty and uncertain. My therapist #2, the more experimental one, has taught me to sit with these feelings rather than running away from them. So, I've been a little down sitting with feelings of emptiness and loss.
Or I was until my article was published on Tuesday in the Albany Patch about my struggles with anxiety, depression and panic attacks (link below). I was overwhelmed with the positive feedback the article generated from friends and family. I wasn't expecting such an outpouring of love and support. This is a wonderful thing, of course. But it's also made think, "what made the article connect with people so deeply?" I feel lucky to have wonderfully supportive people in my life. But it has also been a bit emotionally exhausting. It's strange that the week I decide to retire from writing, my article is published, and I'm overwhelmed with love and support. Such a lesson: one week my writing class is ripping my story apart, the next week people are effusively launching into love letters triggered by my article. I don't want to down play the significance of these love letters. Every one has meant the earth to me; most have been better written than my article. But overall, it has been a lesson in balance. I'm trying not to get too down from the criticism and not too up from the praise.
with sweeping affection, the love of Irony, and luck in our quest for balance,
Anthony
http://albany.patch.com/articles/albany-doctor-helps-albany-native-overcome-severe-mental-health-challenges
(http://gyasiross.bandcamp.com/)
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