A. I've always been a "journaller". I can't remember when I started my first journal, and I've moved so many times in my lifetime that I probably don't even know where my first journal is. If I had to guess, I think I was probably about 7 when I started writing in some little puffy cartoon like journal with one of those locks you could crack with a toothpick.
Since then, I've written in spurts. Waves I suppose you could call them. Some years I've filled only 3 or 4 pages, and other years I've filled 3 or 4 journals (believe it or not). Growing up, I never really knew where I fit in. I was to smart to fit in with the popular crowd, but not smart enough to fit in with the geeks. I put my hand up a lot in class, and stayed in the library during lunch to read or do my homework. I enjoyed learning, and the satisfaction of knowing you did the best you could possibly do on that assignment, or project, or test.
I took my time with everything I did, making sure whatever I produced met the high standards I had set for myself. But my journal writing was different. It was the one area where I didn't have to be perfect, I didn't have to work so hard at creating an entry that made sense. They were embarrassing, honest and truthful. They were scratched our when I realized I had written something that wasn't exactly what I meant. For a long period of time, my journal was my best friend. It helped whittle away at the things in life that I wasn't sure about. If I started writing about it, even if it was to only say how upset I was, somehow by the end of my writing session (whether it be 20 minutes or 2 hours) I would feel like I've come out on the other side of the tunnel. Like I had moved my feelings around in little boxes until they were finally compartmentalized and I knew what they meant (where before they had been a jumbled mess).
One of the biggest problems I've had with 2010 is the hustle. The constant awareness of those little neutrons bouncing around in tiny little spaces that other people still see as still. I see movement, and blocked energy, and tension.
So I don't write because I feel that I don't have time.
Most times, I don't even start writing because if I only have x amount of minutes, I don't believe it is worth it. For me, writing is a process. I do it because of the way I feel while I'm doing it, and also when I'm done. If I only have 15 minutes to write YES I probably could write a post and it would be mediocre, but I would be left feeling even more frazzled afterwards because I would have rushed through it.
So I just don't write.
I'm working on eliminating it. They say recognizing the problem is half of the solution, right? I'm taking time to enjoy the stillness of the mornings when I wake up a few minutes early, I'm forcing myself to take the breaks I'm entitled to while at work, I'm giving myself time to shut everything else out and focus on me and the little things I know are affecting me, but I'm not giving them the time of day.
In 2011, I'm restoring my sense of self.
1 comment:
I completely resonate with this struggle. I'm going through the same. My own struggle with writing as of this moment is finding something I passionately want to write about. However, I feel so critical of myself especially when I write out in the open and instead of moving forward, I just stop. I store the words back inside and silence them out. I've had this struggle for the past 5 years now. Sometimes I attribute it to having attended business school. As if I lost all my sense of creativity and dealt with nothing but numbers. It's not all true really but my right brain gets silenced when I use too much of my left.
Now I find your blog and here I am resonating. It feels good to breathe through other people's words.
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