On Friday last week I decided to clean my desk. My writing corner so to speak. It was so clattered with books and notebooks and pens and everything that it made it impossible for me to sit and work. So on Friday, I rearranged my books and notebooks in the library, put the pens away, dusted everywhere and set my notebook on it so come Monday I was ready to do some writing.
I have come at crossroads a few times in my life. First alone when I made my choice to go to university and study. Then still in university I fell in love and got married. And after that whatever decision I had to make in life I was not alone. We made it together, my late husband and I. We had our regrets; not major ones, we only regretted losing opportunities that were presented to us while somehow we were too busy working and taking care of the family.
Over the past few months I often found myself in a hole. To be frank I found myself more than once at the bottom of a hole. I reached a moment, a point in my life where I started doubting everything. My job, my career, my relationships, my friends, our friends. Though never my children. They are the only real thing for me right now. I doubted everything else. And I found myself at the bottom of a hole in almost total solitude. And as always I came to the conclusion that only writing can save me.
That’s why I went to the library, cleaned my desk, so that I can continue to live. See not knowing what one is looking for is pure agony. I hadn’t prepared myself for this moment. No one is prepared to lose a loved one, especially not when they are young. Your world, the whole world and everything changes around you.
And for the past nine months or so I am trying to find a meaning or reason for what happened. I am trying to make sense of a senseless situation. Too much analytical thinking, too much logic, too many meanings. Life has no logic. What is logic?
To break from all this anxiety I sat at my desk yesterday for a while and scribbled. What I wrote wasn’t anything significant but at least I wrote. I sort of escaped from my reality and it felt good. But at night, people came to see the apartment, since the landlord had put the house on sale. It had been a while since anyone had paid us such a visit. And so it happened that I lost sleep again.
See I don’t think I suffer from insomnia but I think I sleep badly on most nights and I am always up early. And when I woke up early today morning I felt kind of anxious and defeated. What would happen next? Because for me there’s always something and whatever I hope for is never realized and what I fear the most often materializes.
I don’t believe in miracles, but when one is desperate isn’t a miracle all that could be hoped for? As I like to believe:
“Within the dark chaos, naturally there is fate!” Gao Xingjian