Demons: They Make You Think…

On occasion, another person’s blog will cause me to think deeply about the meaning of my own life.  I recommend you click on the “E.” and read what Edward Lorn has to say.  He has said some thought provoking things.  He pulls no punches, and with the exception of the fiction he writes, he tells no lies.  All of it is of interest.

 

For instance, his blog entry today concerns demons.  We’re not talking about the kind with horns, wings and sharp teeth either.  

 

I wanted to share my response to this blog entry because it speaks to how I’ve been feeling of late.  Enjoy!

 

If I had to claim my own personal demon, it’s fear.

 

But it isn’t fear of being alone, or fear or the dark, of women, or any of the hundreds of things that I could have become scared of because of my track record on this planet.

 

It’s fear of success.  I don’t know how to respond when I do well at something I actually enjoy.  Perhaps that’s because until recently, I’ve never let go long enough to do the things I’ve wanted. It took me ten years to return to something I absolutely need to live because I didn’t understand the commitment it would take to write a book.

 

But that fear is still there, creeping in the shadows of everything I write.  The notion that people will “discover” that I am a hack or that my writing is not original doesn’t concern me.  What concerns me is what happens when people start to recognize me.  What pins me in a corner and slaps me up like an abusive parent IS standing out because I really don’t know what to do with the positive attention.  I’ve always gotten it for doing the things that people TOLD me to do, and doing them well.  Like a rat posing for another food pellet in a Skinnerian Cage, I went through the motions for decades, just keeping the peace and making other people happy. Just getting my food pellets.  Surviving.

 

Now I do what I want and it seems to fly in the face of what so many of my friends and family members know about me.  But that’s what happens when you keep yourself and your true desires secreted away, like buried treasure.  What good is buried treasure until someone unearths it and lets it sparkle under the midday sun?

 

I won’t hide forever.  Life is too short.

 

So I press on.  The monkey on my back can breathe all the fire it wants, but  I will still blog knowing people will read it.  I post chapters on my book on WDC  (though that will end soon).  And I continue to reach out to other people who write.  I don’t know that this demon will ever really be exorcised, but I might as well turn a negative in to a positive.  I just happen to know about demons, both real and imagined.  The horror that lurks in the nighttime shadows, and the fear the keeps an abuse victim from speaking out against their abusers is one and the same to me.

 

If I can help others get over their fears, so much the better, but that’s a bonus I can claim when I’ve wrangled my own demons.

 

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