There’s something fundamentally wrong when I consult my headspace for answers only to recede to a place – I can never fully comprehend – that swears I am in yet another creative funk. But I know it’s more than that.
When it’s only my thoughts and I, late in the night struggling to meet deadlines and create perfection, I crash and burn. Only due to the massive and powerful presence my pressure points stake claim when I’m in and out of view.
Talk about a year that looks at your plans and flashes the mid-finger. You know that quote (I don’t know if it’s biblical so) that you make plans and God laughs? That sort of thing. Where all your neatly laid out plans do not even get a chance to come up for air.
I started on a high this year as per but when all the niceties wore off, death by low tides. I have had a rough couple of days that turned into weeks that turned into months and I can now easily say the year has been on my neck. CONSTANTLY.
I mean yes I did accomplish a few things but what is fulfilment if the process was unbearable? I have consistently given hope and affirmations to this girl who happens to Write on the Internet. But hope is danger and sometimes you need to break out of harmful thought process.
The Blank Page is the Enemy – Tiago Forte
My child fell sick for the first time and it’s been a clusterfuck of unfortunate events since then. After a week of me helplessly crying at the state of it all, he got better. And then, the whole family joined in. Just as I was about to breathe in, he fell sick again.
With pressure mounting from other aspects of my life, I was in a state of complete helplessness. My anxiety levels shot up and it’s been terrible. He’s getting better now, thankfully. Pulling all-nighters is the only way I’ll catch up with my set deadlines.
All the advice I sure dish out does not apply here. I just want to feel all this that I’m feeling and throw myself pity parties every waking day. No need to fight it, deep breaths and let it wander about. But that’s only happening in theory.
I still have to take care of a toddler who quite frankly shows up for me all the time with his infectious melting smile that wipes off my problems in one long hug. In that moment, I am alive.
Creatively, I have spent a lot of time sorting out my feelings about it but I cannot articulate this phase as one would wish. All I know is that I need to get shit done even in imperfection. Waiting for moments of balance may never come. Not when I’m adulting full time. In my moments of fear this time, I will write through it all.
I will sit my ass down, pull out that dusty fancy notebook and get my hands dirty. I will go back to my roots and journal my Morning Pages for my daily writing practice whether for publishing or not. I will maintain a regular blog and feed while at it.
I refused to stop writing and became incredible.
If you have some wonderful resources that go beyond scratching my itch, hit me up.