Missing My Muse

I’ve been working like a fiend this past year. New job. Love it. Working with DeafBlind clients. Amazing! It is such an incredibly humbling and rewarding experience. Learned two types of Sign Language – not fluent yet, but I can speak without words now. Kinda cool. 😉 And truth be told, I think I have finally found my calling when it comes to the ol’ 9-5, which, incidentally, I really REALLY hate don’t like.


Always have. Always will. I will never quite get used to the grind that robs us of our joy, dulls our naturally beautiful light, and stresses us to the point of sickness and disease. Never get used to it cuz it makes no fucking sense. Period. And if you just thought “Well it pays the bills, Tdot.” then shame on you! If the meaning of your life and your entire existence is to work to pay the bills, you really need to rethink why you live your life the way you do and go out and find some fucking JOY!

And the older I get the more I realize how ridiculous this all is! The daily grind of commuting back and forth in a dog eat dog workforce where, in truth, you are completely fucking dispensible and another fucking robot will take over after you crash and burn, stressing over not completing shit your boss says is time-sensitive – what eveeer! – and then taking that shit home and worrying about it. And the irony is that your boss is probably sitting at home stressing over their bosses time-sensitive bullshit as well! It would be almost fucking laughable if it wasn’t so bloody pathetic.


Everyone is full of complaints. Every. Single. Day. They bitch about the wife, the husband, the girlfriend, the boyfriend…or lack of any relationship at all. Then there are the bratty kids, the obnoxious millennials, the shit job, the shit boss, the fucking dog barking nonstop next door, the loud and nosy neighbor, the government, Trump, how fucked up our world has become, and how they never have enough money or time to do anything FUN!

I wonder: Would we even know FUN if it bit us in the ass?

(Well, maybe…if that’s your thing. 😉 )

The struggle is real. I get it. Folks are fighting to keep their heads above water while drowning in debt and keeping up appearances. Cuz you know – the Joneses might be watching. Or maybe, just that judgy friend that you haven’t had the balls to tell “go fuck yourself” to yet. And as I listen to their complaints, and share a few of my own, a little voice – which is growing louder by the day – whispers, what the hell are we all doing! Like SERIOUSLY.

I don’t have all the answers. This thing called LIFE is far too personal, complicated, layered and mystical for me to wrap up its meaning with a neat little platitude, but I’m pretty sure it’s not supposed to be so hard. And I don’t think that’s why we are here. The human experience is not to toil and struggle and live in the shadows of sadness and depression. It’s not to work and slave and pay and run and hide and escape and abuse our bodies and fantasize about living any other life but the one we are currently living.

Clearly, that is not the answer CUZ IT’S NOT FUCKING WORKING!

But I do think we are here to be happy, to love, to share, to give hope, and to find meaning and purpose. And to be kind to one another. Not an easy thing to do when we are wound up tighter then robotic little toys. When we are so wrapped up, no, buried alive under the mounds of meaningless, senseless, soul-destroying, and all-consuming bureaucratic bullshit. But we have to try! If not, what else is there?




Did I digress?

No. Not really.

My point is when you get caught up in the daily grind of working in what are becoming increasingly toxic environments – WTF right?! – it zaps all your energy and leaves you left with nothing for your kids, your partner – thank god for fucking cats! – and most importantly, it leaves you with nothing left for yourself. Escapism is no longer procrastination or laziness, but a true and necessary coping mechanism. For real. I get it! But when your day begins with wishing you were already home, binging on Netflix, eating bad things, pouring a drink or smoking a doob, with your feet up and forgetting about anything and everything that doesn’t have anything to do with making you feel good…well, then something is terribly wrong!

And you really need to rethink why you live your life the way you do!

I’m tired.

My body is tired.

My bones are tired.

My soul is tired if that’s even possible.

But it’s not age or work or endless responsibilities that are draining me, although they definitely contribute. No. It’s the loss of my Muse. That fiery, passionate source of endless, artistic inspiration. She was the light of my midnight oil, swirled and danced in my wine glass, constricted my heart with her passionate prose, inspired me to want to write opuses, mad concoctions of lovestruck odes to the goddesses of love and lust and pain and sorrow. She kept my soul afire and alive with the promise of…more. Always more. And I was exquisitely helpless. Beyond breathless. Exhaustively lying in wait for her touch of resurrection.

And I miss her.

I know she is there. Deep within me. Lost in a dreamless slumber. A beautiful enchanted being lying under a spell. Imprisoned by societal concepts that keep her asleep. But she is there. Alive. Powerful. And Strong. I know cuz her voice still whispers in my ear and her mind still speaks to mine. I can feel her energy stir, pulse through my blood and claim my imagination when she fights to resist the darkness. But the weight is heavy, the blanket of anonymity warm and comforting, and the blandness of conformity safe.

It’s easy to forget there is more.

Please. Don’t.

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13 thoughts on “Missing My Muse

  1. Yep, I get it, I totally am in sync with what you say, and you’re awesome for saying it. My job does not define me, it is not me, or who I want to be. I want to raise chickens and write and dream. But my job is what I do, to feed myself and my family, and I do it because this is the world. If what you do helps others, and if it fulfills a part of you, if it is a gift. There will always be more to reach for, and I truly hope your arms extend to what you need. But sometimes you (probably all of us) need to reach for contentment in who we are. I know I’m not there, but, you know, we’re all works-in–progress.

  2. I’m with you on this too Trish. I just want to write and meditate and grow spiritually, but I have to work too. It sucks but sometimes the muse needs a break too. Life is cyclical, so maybe she’s just resting up. It’s great to see you back in my WP feed. Missed you! (((Hugs)))
    Shawn ❤

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