After a two week busy spell where everything seemed overly hard, I was completely unable to put any constructive words down. Even my notebook started feeling neglected. I made no progress on my blog, nothing on my book and still have three dreams to interpret for friends. On top of which I have once again overcommitted myself to various people and projects. So off course when Murphy heard I was so frazzled, he waved his wand of inspiration towards Nadine Rose Larter of Katalina Publishing and suddenly, I was faced with the hardest challenge of them all; celebrating my creative self. Wow. What a bummer.
Reading this challenge had me groaning. How do I celebrate something that I suddenly had no access to whatsoever? I kept putting it aside off course. If I didn’t read the whole challenge, I’d feel okay about skipping out on it. Off course, I started obsessing about the challenge trying to think of what I would say and got nowhere fast. I couldn’t even convince myself to read my favourite blogs because that would probably just make me feel worse. So when I eventually decided to just suck it up, read the challenge and think about it, I realized that Murphy isn’t such a bad guy (well, sometimes) He had a rather nifty plan getting me out of this slump.
Instead of telling you why my writing self is so great and celebrating it, I think, right now, I need to be thankful of finding that inner space reserved for putting pen to paper, or at least, fingers to keyboard (how times have changed)
I think more of myself as an expressionist, rather than a writer. My choice of expression just happens to be words. When life gets so busy that I can’t express myself, I literally feel myself fizzing out. Have you ever dropped a fizzy tablet in a glass of water? It just fizzes away until the water is all orange and the tablet is gone. When I can’t write for lack of time or lack of inspiration, it feels as if I dissolve into the glass of everyone else’s opinion and I completely lose myself. Writing helps me share myself so that the world does not consume me. It is my lifeline in a mundane world filled with bills, responsibilities and humanity’s sensibilities.
My writing self is the mother who sings lullabies despite having the worst voice in the world, the wife who cooks a mean mac and cheese, the woman who confidently dresses up despite the fact that she forgot to shave and greets the world with her head held high. Thank you Nadine; for reminding me that she’s still inside of me, even if I don’t always see that.