Tuesday, August 30, 2011
Stress and writing
Over the last few weeks, I've been downtown in Washington for a bomb threat. I've experienced an earthquake. And two days ago, hurricane Irene rolled through. The hurricane battered our house with 20 MPH winds that gusted to 25. The patter of raindrops almost made a sound hitting the window. The winds knocked dozens of leaves off their trees. I haven't felt anything like that since last Tuesday.
Okay, so the hurricane didn't hit all that hard. But it could have. We scoffed at the damage the hurricane would do. We laughed at the earthquake. The wife and I laughed at the bomber. None of those things affected me. No, what terrifies me and knocks the prose right out of my head, is the report that our business is still down 60%. I'm convinced I'm more terrified of being jobless than I am of ending up a lump of hamburger under a pile a rubble or getting blown to bits. I can take pain. I can't take the thought of not having any income. I can't take the thought of not being enough of a man to be needed. Getting killed in a freak accident is excusable. It happens. Getting laid off is a sign of weakness. It's inferiority. I don't mind being unlucky. I can't stand being inferior.
Trying to cleanse the stress out of mind tonight with the help of some rum. Wish me luck.