Words are inadequate

"Why I can't write" turns out to be one of those things that my brain just slides off of rather than grappling with. I literally cannot hold the idea in my head for long enough to say anything coherent about it. Usually when that happens I forget about it altogether. It's some sort of defence against prodding too much at something very frightening. I've only kept track of it this time through concentrated effort.

Anyway, writing. I've been here before, and sort of skirted around what was actually going on. Now I'm getting closer to it but still not to a point where I can think usefully about it.

A tangent: in my limited experience, the two main attitudes of counselors/therapists are "wait the patient out, they'll bring up the hard stuff on their own when they're ready" and "prod the patient gently to get at the hard stuff." Prodding seems to provide more immediate results for me, since I'm very good at Not Thinking About things. However, my current counselor is more of a waiting type. This has the (probably intended) result that if I don't bring in something to talk about there's not much talking going on. So when something happens like "I spent three days straight playing a computer game that I'm not even sure I like very much," I bring that up, and it turns out to be relevant. Anyway. Tangent over.

Normally when people think about being afraid of writing, it's the whole 'what if it isn't any good' thing. I don't have that, so much. I mean, I moan about how awful my stuff is as much as the next writer but I don't let that stop me. I keep going, usually with friendly support and 'it doesn't suck' from various people. Once it's Out There for whatever value of Out There, I don't worry so much. It's either good enough or it isn't and either way the next one will be better.

This... has something to do with the weight I place on Being A Writer, and something to do with needing other people, and, oddly, some relation to a couple of other things I'd like to do but haven't pursued.

Twitter turns out to be a horrible medium for me to feel connected to anybody. It really is like being at a huge party all the time, and as such it's exhausting for me. (I am decidedly not comfortable with jumping into conversations.) Unfortunately it's also where much of my writerly social circle is being sociable and supportive. That's more of a big deal for me than I'd thought it would be. It's not a cause, I don't think, but it's not helping. I am, as always, deeply grateful for the people I have here. DW/LJ helps. It's just not enough.

Which is in some sense the problem. What I can get isn't enough, and so I stop asking and seeking. Not sure how to resolve that.

SAM: Well, that was needlessly cryptic.
MAX: I'd be peeing my pants if I wore any.

Elseweb, a thoughtful person says I exist primarily in words. Meaning there are very few conversations I would rather have face to face instead of over IM or e-mail.

Her reasons make a great deal of sense to me. Particularly I don't have a record of the conversation later to consult and ask further questions on. There are a number of Hard Conversations that I'm happy I had over IM, because that way I can go back later and say "oh, that's what that meant" or "i was a jerk and need to apologise and make amends for that" or "wow, that was kinda fucked up." And having the time and leisure to think out a response clearly and see that it's saying more or less what I want it to say helps as well.

Even so, when things are overwhelming, when I'm so hurt or angry I can't process, I need more contact than chat or email can give me. I need the sensory input that tells me there's a human being on the other end of the conversation. I need that knowledge, that visceral reassurance, that says I'm still here, even though this is hard I'm still with you.

Physical presence and contact are preferable. Voice will do in a pinch.

(Not that I expect this to come up anytime soon, or likely ever, with anyone reading this. It's more for my own record than anything.)