Anyone else out there suffering from “I’m-not-doing-enough-itus?”

I hurt my knee.  I don’t know how I did it, but it was the third such lay-me-up-for-a-while injury sustained in September.  I’m not a clumsy person either, so three Wham-Bam-Mother-F**ing-OUCH’s in one month must mean something…   or so everyone has been telling me.

The standard response to my “I hurt my knee” hobble show has been “This is because you do too much.  You need to slow your roll, lady!”   Only, don’t they understand that I have plays to write, shows to get on Broadway, and professorial employment to procure?

… or, that none of that is happening right now anyway?  In spite of my constant busy-ness?

So I’m trying to take it easy on the couch while I wait for this Thursday’s apt with the orthopedist (hopefully the thing wrong with my knee isn’t that dire!) but it’s hard!  It’s hard because I’m so wrapped up in my part-time-panic that I don’t want to slow down… lest the life I’m trying find get too far ahead for me to ever catch up with.

Except that I did hurt my knee and I’ve been forced to spend way too many days on the couch like a total bum, no matter my anxiety.

And since I’m confessing – I’m not-writing again, which sucks.  The frustration and aggravation are paralyzing me lately – the thought that I’ll get stuck here in the not-really-where-I-want-to-be pit is paralyzing me even more – and yet, I’m so tired that I find myself spending my bum-knee-couch-time reading or playing video games instead of the “Gee, if only I had more time I’d be SOOOOO writing my greatest hits right now!” mantra I’ve been humming the past few months.

So – what’s the point of this whine-fest?  It’s that I need more wine… and pages.  I need to get my butt in gear, but I don’t know how.  It’s not writer’s block, it’s honest to goodness depression and anxiety.

And I didn’t need a busted knee in order to admit that.