It has taken me many years to feel quite how much writing means to me. The release it gives to the jumbled tangled inner me.
Let’s not go into quite how many years…am kinda feeling my age at the moment and wondering where time has gone.
Anyway back to the writing…
The thing that has made me really understand its importance is how fragile I feel when at times like this I haven’t written anything for a while. Like I can barely hold it all within me.
I haven’t written here or in my ‘daily’ writing (which maybe should be renamed my occasionally-when-I-feel-like-it writing) for nearly 3 weeks. And I don’t like it,
So why am I doing this to myself?
Sometimes it is because I have too many ideas, too many things that I need to get out. One thing you don’t give me is choice. My anxiety makes me question everything. Which idea do I write about? Will I do a better post on this idea or that one? And so it goes on until I choose nothing. I run away from the tight feeling in my bones.
You see. This is one of my skills. I build up roadblocks because I am scared. Because life seems so damn tough and against me that I hide. I do nothing so I don’t fail. So I don’t have to face up to the effort and vulnerability that my choices may bring.
It is a skill I could do without.
My new blog has become one of these blocks. Yep that new site I started talking about way back in May. I was so excited at the idea of having a new blog, my very own self-hosted blog. And then this depressive episode hit. Along with so many things, my enthusiasm for my new site vanished. Progress has been painful. And it has stopped me writing. I want to save my ideas for it. So I do not move on with the blog and I do not write. I am stuck.
So I do nothing. My pen has stopped moving, my fingers no longer tapping.
It needs to stop. I cannot lose this. I refuse to lose this. Where is my sledgehammer? There are some roadblocks to be taken down.