Nothing to Say
The MFA program I’m in is year round—but we get five weeks off in winter and three in spring. Now, I’m nearing the completion of my third semester (one month remaining) and the five-week break will instead be spent prepping for the thesis. Six months ago I would have told you about my book concept and that I had 150 pages to work with that needed deep revision but still had potential. Now, I’ll tell you I’m not that same person, nor that same writer. Of more significance is that I have hardly anything for my thesis in terms of page numbers, but I have the enthusiasm and new-found love for the lyrical essay that, I hope, will carry my through to a thesis that I’m ultimately proud of.
Work will end just in time for this five-week break, which I will now call my thesis prep intensive (nix that – I won’t call it that. I’ll come up with something that sounds more fun, more alive, more me). I’ve also committed to taking care of myself in new and more profound ways, to combat the imbalances that grad school has introduced into my emotional and physical health and to start to learn a new, healthier way of being.
What I’m terrified of most is having to limit myself…that if this “anxiety” thing is really going to persist, that I may never be able to do as much as I’ve done in the past. But oh, efficiency and thoroughness are SO MUCH of how I define myself in my day-to-day life that the task of re-envisioning feels daunting at times.
One day at a time, right? Tonight I’m at 24-hours of a flaming hot sore throat, a cold sore that wants to surface (from anxiety? I don’t know; this is new and utterly obnoxious), and not enough sleep, and over-commitments this weekend. Oops. I was only supposed to talk about today.
Sorry, the creative juices are inverted these days. They’re there, cooking somewhere, but silent and unseen…today, at least.