evolving

5 minute read

blank

WHEN I BEGAN TYPING THIS (months ago), I didn’t want to overthink or over-edit it, but just type about that thing I was thinking about before I sat down. But every time I sit down to write, like right now, my brain turns to slush.

Every morning, I write in my journal (an app on my phone). I jot ideas I want to write about and share. But then I’m spent. Those thoughts end up going no further than that app. Because later, when I sit down to type something, that heavy blanket of exhaustion covers me and I end up with yet another title at the top of a blank draft. Ugh, slump.

Three. Months. Later. I’m sitting here again staring at that bleeping cursor.

Am I afraid nothing I might write will ever be as good as what I’ve already written?

No . . . That’s not it.

Is it because nothing could matter as much to me—or to anyone else—as the book I’ve already put everything I had into?

Maybe that’s it.

Or am I just tired after running crawling a sixteen-year marathon (grieving and writing a book about it) and in need of more time to recuperate from rewriting my life after unimaginable loss.

Sometimes I don’t allow myself to see the magnitude of what I’ve experienced. I see myself as having more endurance, more strength and ability, mentally and physically, than I actually have. I see myself as younger than I actually am. As if my age froze at 43, the age I was when Sam, 9, died. I don’t see (or don’t want to see) the damage done to both my body and my mind from the daily grind of living with half my heart missing.

I know I’m in a slump. And I feel more slump-ish when I thumb through social media (only Facebook, because I lack the energy to keep up with any others). Everyone there seems so upbeat, well-lit, and blissful. Where are the ones like me who move like sloths, take pictures of snails, and wander about the world without taking and posting selfies?

waiting

I know I shouldn’t should myself so much, but I keep thinking:

• I should be doing more to promote my book. But then, slump. Which I think is my body’s way of complaining, “Book promoting, blechk! Please . . . Anything but that! Let’s watch puppy and kitten reels instead.”
• I should write something. But I don’t seem to be able to write anything meaningful. Though I know not everything has to mean something. Proof: this post is about nothing deep or meaningful, just letting some thoughts fly, working out my rewriting muscles.
• I should share the way I’m feeling with others. Yes! Maybe someone else is in a slump too, and they’ll appreciate this post. Sooner or later, our slump will come to an end, right? As everything does. But when will it end? we wonder . . . and wait.

Excerpt from Willower: Rewriting Life After Unimaginable Loss

“The two most powerful warriors are Patience and Time,”said Tolstoy.

Some days, unable to do much else, all I could do was sit and wait . . . Patience was my superpower now.

(from Chapter 9. Migrating: desire)

circling

I think, maybe, I’ve been grieving the loss of my project.

Okay, I didn’t lose it, but it did come to an end. As everything does. And I’m wondering what to create and share now. Who do I want to be now that I’ve finished that project (my book) that kept me laser-focused (or distracted) for so many years? Now that I’m coming to terms with being an empty-nester? Now that I’m free to pick and choose whatever I want to write about, or read/learn about, or do, or explore?

Our dog Reggie used to circle and circle, dig and dig, sniff and circle some more before settling down, curling up in his plush dog bed.

Maybe that’s what I’m doing. Circling, digging, sniffing. Maybe I’ll find that cozy, creative warm spot to settle into; I just have to keep circling, just a few more turns before . . .

evolving

This is good. The circling, digging, sniffing, crafting, rewriting, and building of these sentences are helping me to sit up a little straighter now. As I type this, I’m gathering strength. Readjusting again as I migrate in, through, and out of grief.

Maybe I’ve been in this slump because I’m trying to recreate myself.

Yeah . . . Maybe that’s it.

The slug (yes, I Googled this) evolved from the snail.

Maybe this sluggishness is part of my evolutionary process.

Maybe evolving, recreating oneself, requires some downtime—or much longer if you’re a slug.

Maybe writing this will spark something in me, and in you, too. Help lift my mood, and yours, too.

When you’re in a slump or feeling blah or blank, what do you do to lift your mood? Any thoughts or ideas to share? Leave me a comment below.

Idea: I think I’ll head out for a walk now, take a picture or two of whatever catches my eye—that always helps me whenever I’m feeling blah. Another idea: Maybe I’ll even post some pictures I’ve taken while out wandering around.

Like these:

Then, maybe I’ll try again tomorrow. Or the day after that. Or whenever. To rewrite and share and connect and . . .

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Willower is available on Amazon or wherever you buy your books. For more links jump to my Book Page.