09/10/11 9 a.m. Just pressed "send" on a manuscript I've been working on long and hard. Sent to ED, a co-author, for him to work on during his travels. I noticed that as soon as I pressed "send", I wished to distract myself. I chose instead to rest with the notion that I had just sent off something rich and full and of my self. This was uncomfortable to ponder, and now, minutes later, it still feels uncomfortable. What do I feel?
As I think of what I created and sent off, I feel a fullness of being, a swelling and surging within my right throat, arm, and abdomen. I also feel an anxiety, a tensing of the jaw. What if I relax that? A tingling in the jaw, as though it is coming to life; a deep intake of the breath. Deep, tingling pleasure in the jaw. Thoughts: "I shouldn't be doing this! I should be doing something else!" I persevere despite the thoughts. A slight sadness, then a sense of my attacker approaching from the upper right. I stare at him and tell him he cannot hurt me anymore. I feel an urge to action in my torso and arms. I sense that, by giving out a part of my self, I have opened a can of worms that will require me to deal with a diversity of challenging feedback. I see this as small projectiles coming at me, from in front of me, from many directions, one immediately after the other. I hear it as a voice that, like the teacher in the Peanuts animations, is speaking gibberish, but in a harsh, berating tone. The voice is constant; it doesn't let up.
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