That’s not what this post is about, unless writing itself is a victory over lassitude, or fear, or circumstance, or the external and internal forces that muffle me. I just wanted to see the word victory. I yearn for victory.
Visibility and liberation: It would be a victory to be visible. Or maybe my victories need to be visible to me. I am trying to shine, to show up, to take up space, to get bigger. My hand is waving wildly, “Pick me! Pick me! Pick MEEEEEE.” And… silence. Enveloping invisibility. Silencing invisibility. My belief in my accomplishments, always tenuous (tenebrous?), fades a little more with each unanswered email, each week that passes after the initial interview.
Virtue and liberation: There is no overlap. My conception of virtue is vicious, eviscerating to me. I will not achieve liberation by being the kindest, the nicest, the most self-sacrificing. If so, I would be wondrously free by now — but is the kindest, the nicest, the most self-sacrificing ever really free? No. It’s the “ests” that shackle her (always a her!). “-Est” requires comparison, and liberated people make our (our?!) own measuring sticks. I will be kind, I will be nice. I will call a halt to the sacrifice of my own self because I only have the one and I’d miss me if I disappeared.
Virus and liberation: I do appreciate the time for reflection. I do. I expect I will look back on it as an important time.
Variability and liberation: my mood, my mind — all over the place, as if to make up for the strict limits on where my body can go and has gone. That itself is wearying. I will wake up feeling fine, buoyant, victorious, even. And then I’m sad, heavy, confused, purposeless. There’s no cause for the shift — it’s like swimming across a cold spot in the ocean. It’s just there, and me in it.
Value and liberation: I have value, whether liberated or not. I have value, I am valuable, I value myself. I worry that I get closer to losing that thread every day. It’s not actually a thread. It’s a thick, well-twisted rope. I can rely on it to hold me. It’s hard, though. I’m not feeling at all valued professionally or valuable. Where are all the people who should want me? (Pick me! Pick me! Pick MEEEEEE!). Why are they waiting so long, or making me wait so long? Enough.
Vision and liberation: I’ll know it when I see it. And I know that I will see it.
Another Door 