We walk and talk in time
I walk and talk in two
Where does the end of me
Become the start of you
~ Change, Tears for Fears
Change
I'm not writing. I'm not doing anything. I haven't done anything since I graduated and moved in with Ivo.
Maybe that's what's wrong with me.
It's incredibly stressful - not having to do anything. So stressful that the smallest task is overwhelming. You can't bring yourself to do it. You'll only do it if someone is flogging you. People who are driven, people like Ivo, they don't get that. They can't understand why we who are aimless – unemployed – are so reluctant to act. Their lives are so structured, the addition of one task is nothing. If they have five spare minutes between 6:55 am and 7 am, they clear their desk. Or their briefcases. Or their wallets.
And then they are out the door.
I am not even up at 6:55 am let alone 7 am or even 10 am. There is nothing for me to get up for. There is nothing waiting for me. And if there is – if I need to clear the sink or pick up the wine glasses in the living room from last night's near-rape or wash the linens – well, that is a daunting task. Something I must do when I have nothing else.
I can't. It's better to be berated by Ivo and let him do it.
And I don't know why.
It's even worse if it's important. If it's a considerable undertaking, you give up before seriously contemplating it. There is absolutely no way you could ever write a novel or address the question of just what you are doing with your life.
Unless the motivation is bigger still.
Huge.
Towering.
Unless you are out of your mind with fear of the consequences if you don't do it.
That's how it was for me. I would never have had the courage to change.
If Danny hadn't terrorized me.