I would like to post more but have felt overwhelmed. It’s not just one thing, but if I could chop my life in half things might be easier. Then again, I could also go roost in a tree as it’s just as probable that’s going to happen.
Lately, my brain has written what’s been going on. I write internally — I describe how I feel to myself, I process my emotions, I create situations to move me through my feelings.
I didn’t want my blog to be journal-like: lists for the grocery store and how sometimes I pluck one eyebrow too high and people assume I am always perplexed. I wanted my blog to capture my essence: why I run, how I feel, and what I am as a writer. I wanted to tell stories.
Now, it seems, the stories in my head are about me. I feel like I need to write so am going to hit publish more often. Even if my posts are not as finished as I would like them to be, if readership and comments drop off, or if it’s not the quality I had hoped. For me the process of writing is what I need right now. I need to do to get better, and I need to do to get through this space/funk/depression/wilt I’m in.
I won’t have space for good stories if the ones in my head can’t get out. I appreciate those of you who do drop by and read and visit and comment. It helps me feel connected to something bigger. It keeps me inspired. I aspire to better things as I read your posts. (Especially those of you who have in-law pets named Thurber).
Bear with me as I bear with myself.