Middle English (as both noun and verb referring to the infliction or suffering of torture): from Old French torment (noun), tormenter (verb), from Latin tormentum ‘instrument of torture,’ from torquere ‘to twist.’
Tormented serves as a very ‘good’ word for my recent state of mind. I haven’t written anything in months. Haven’t commented. Haven’t cared about much of anything. For some reason every year I forget how I feel about The Holidays. In simple terms: I hate them.
Beginning before Halloween and lasting until the New Year, all my self-doubt and -loathing get all twisted up with memories and emotions that have never been settled, never mind with any permanent closure. It doesn’t help that my other personalities have different desires; some (as in Rose) love the hype and color and social doings and would be partying every night if I let her. Some of the others that lived before me, and more importantly lived through the trauma, roll their eyes at her and want to stay in their rooms until spring. But, having to work ‘nearly’ full-time in order to keep a roof over our heads and the larder stocked, means that five days a week I have to grit my teeth, force all my feelings back into the closet and do my best to survive. Plus, being my wife’s caretaker can get stressful.
None of that feeds my creativity. I’m never been someone that uses adversity to strive for change. I tend to pull back and curl up into myself. My only escape is to read. Or YouTube; but I won’t blame my depression on that addiction. I/We have always been depressed to some degree, but medication doesn’t work and therapy became a crutch. I don’t really want to be tormented all the time, but I don’t know how to stop.
Lest you think this is self-pity or a ‘woe-is-me’ diatribe… it’s not. Rose slaps me upside the head (well, inside the head. So to speak.) whenever I wallow. As she points out — and I know — there are billions of people on this Earth who can’t fathom the luxury and security of my lifestyle. I just get stuck. Internally. I can counsel someone else quite readily but when it comes to introspection, I suck. I don’t blame anyone. I accept full responsibility for my lack… of many things.
This was not what I intended to write today, but it needs to be said. I write when I feel like it, not to make a living. To some of you, that undoubtably disqualifies me from the Authors Guild, but that’s okay. The pen maybe mightier than the sword, but in my case, at least it doesn’t serve as a tormentum. I’ve got my mind serving that post.
And it is a very, very competent torturer.