“…if I’m not writing, I’m not well. If I’m not writing, the world around me is slowly leached of its color. my senses are dulled. I am crabby with my husband, short-tempered with my kid, and more inclined to see small things wrong with my house (the crack in the ceiling, the smudge prints along the staircase wall) than look out the window at the blazing maple tree, the family of geese making its way across the driveway. If I’m not writing, my heart hardens, rather than lifts.” – Dani Shpiro, Still Writing
It’s been over three months since I’ve sat at my desk, or kitchen table, typing away at a blank canvas. The latter part of last year has brought about a change of seasons for me. I’ve been pouring more of my energy into my work. Not that I am spending more time at work, but, the amounts and kind of energy being placed there has significantly increased, in a good way.
It’s a sign that I am enjoying what I’m doing, but it’s exhausting. You see, family and work have been the things consuming my time and energy; as they should be. Family will always be my main priority.
Because of this shift in placed energy, one thing has been neglected. The writing process.
As twelve weeks have gone by without letting the thoughts mustering in my mind travel through my fingertips onto the screen, my body and soul are beginning to notice.
Surrendering to the writing process.
It’s not just the pounding of the keys that I’m missing, it’s the entire writing process. It’s pushing past resistance to sit butt in chair. It’s the intense and mindful focus on deep thought, or flow, and having it pass through me onto the screen. It’s the disentanglement of thoughts and having them form sentences. It’s the understanding of those thoughts; the providing of clarity. It’s sharing them with you.
I miss how writing makes me feel.
Writing is an integral part to my journey of intentional self growth. I haven’t been taking care of myself first. I haven’t been going through the intentional actions that help resurrect my best self to give to others. I haven’t been focusing on my inner world as much as I have been my outer.
My priorities and values are in place. Its foundation, however, is beginning to weaken. My commitment to self growth has taken a back seat. The uneasy feeling that’s been sitting in the pit of my stomach is my body screaming at me for my attention wanting my devotion for leading an intentional life once again.
Resistance prevails once again.
Resistance, after twelve weeks of not writing, is as powerful as ever. As it’s been gaining strength, I’ve been weakening.
Or maybe it’s fear? Fear is the resistance.
The fear of having not written anything for so long and having to start over and exercising my writing muscle getting it back in shape. The fear of wondering what others might think. I’ve been letting fear stand in the way of feeding my soul for far too long.
Now, I let go. I’m releasing any expectations, or fears, of the end result and surrendering myself to the writing process. Tweet this