Yesterday was a bad day. The stupid ant part of the nice Vishnu dream didn’t help, I’m sure, and when I was in the middle of belly aching over something or other (writing, or the lack of it this month so far, if you must know) He decided He’d had enough of my not using the proper words to express why frustration, and He called me on it.
Mind you, I didn’t want to be called on it. I wanted to vent and be frustrated and, yeah, possibly dig at myself a bit. But He has taken a page out of Odin’s book and He’s very much, say what you mean, be precise, especially if you’re going to be tossing missiles at yourself. And this made me furious. It conjured up all the “I can’t express myself,” feels, and so, not half an hour after writing my last post, I found myself reaching hard for that apathy, wanting to retreat into it. I found myself with “fuck You” and “fuck all this” within reach and wanting very much to just dive into them. The blog post only remained up at first because I was on my way to work, and my connection wouldn’t work, and then because people had already read it. I’m not generally a “delete the post!” person, even when mad, so this was total over-reaction on my part.
We fought all day. Or, I fought, and He played the god-card. “You realize Whom you are speaking to like this, and living after having done so, right? I am Poseidon,” and I’d toss a mean “Are You sure? Because, look at this Vishnu shit right here,” and He’d press a bit harder, and I’d press back, and then I’d come to my senses and remember that it was a choice, how I responded, and it was up to me to let the anger go and come back to center.
I did, but it took all day. ALL. DAY. Sometimes, when I’m upset, communicating with Him in words is too hard, opens up too much room to bumble and get things wrong. I’m too prickly. And most of the time — really, 9.9 times out of 10, He goes along with that. He doesn’t push. He doesn’t bother to use words. This time, that day, He did, and I know the point — or one of the points — was to get me to see why using the correct words are important. Calling myself a hack writer is not only not true, it’s the incorrect use of the word. What I mean was undisciplined, and once we got the correct word in place, I was able to realize that I’m not undisciplined. What I am is unrealistic/not honoring what I know my limits to be, with the pace and the goals I’ve set up for this year. Too many books, too fast. I may get the 3 books of the trilogy written this year — in fact, I believe I will, but three in six months? Not while working full time, and taking care of the house, and working with Beth on Fiberwytch — and she needs the help more and more as business picks up. (which, yay!!)
Part of why Poseidon is awesome is because He can and does push me hard when I need to remember to keep it real. He keeps it real for me when I slip, and He doesn’t pull His punches. Even when I get pissed off. I adore that He’ll remind me Who and What He is, not to get me to grovel at His feet, but to help me remember what I’m saying to Whom, to remind me that though o/Our relationship is about u/Us, we both exist outside of the relationship, and what we are after is support, affection, love, and empathy. Not hard, harsh, brittle words that strike like daggers, aimed inward or outward.