Why can’t I just write? I can’t write anything, anywhere. Not here, not over there. Not even in a little notebook. It was so easy before. All day I would think about things I wanted to write about. Then I would pick a time to sit down to write and it would just come out. It wasn’t something that I “might” do. It wasn’t a maybe. It was a habit. It was therapy. I loved it. It was something that I just couldn’t not do. Now I am here. I still love to write. And I want to write. But it feels like I can’t. I don’t know if I am just being stubborn and impatient or if my brain really needs more rest. Frankly, it worries me. I’m pretty sure that is the first time I’ve ever used the word ‘frankly’.

One of my favorite bloggers sent out a post yesterday. When I saw it in my inbox, I was surprised to see the name. I couldn’t remember the last time I got an update from him. Turns out, one of the first things he says in the email is:

                                   “It’s been a month since I’ve written you. It happens.”


Can you see why I might like him so much? 

I actively try not to worry about stupid things. Things that don’t really matter – like not writing blog posts. Things I have no control over, things that haven’t even happened yet, or things that are unlikely to even happen at all. For example, I am still in transition. Stuck in a place I don’t want to be so I can get to a place I want to go. All I want to do is move on and away. But most days, I find myself thinking about any number of events that might prevent me from moving in the next few months. Someone gets sick. I get sick. I meet Prince Charming. I get a job offer I can’t refuse. I lose all my savings. I dunno…something happens. When I think about these things, I get seriously stressed. Like…shoulders tense up to my ears, scrunched face and headache-inducing-furrowed-brow. All about things that haven’t even happened. In fact, most of the stuff I think about isn’t even close to reality. There is no sign or signal from the anywhere that any of these things are likely to happen. How ridiculous is it that I allow myself to stress about them? To even think about them? Does everyone do this? I hope it isn’t just me. I’m trying to get better at recognizing when I’m doing this and stopping it before that headache comes on.

I was hanging out on Fizzle the other day and came across a post from another member that was burnt out and was frustrated that this happens to him regularly. I’ve noticed that this happens to me also, but instead of a burn out it is more like a pattern of depression. I responded to his post to let him know I totally got what he was saying. I think it was the first time I’ve ever really written “I struggle with depression” for someone else to see. It’s something I’ve know for a while but isn’t something I want to talk about. How’s that for a party starter…”hey guys, does anyone wanna talk about my depression?!” I guess I’ve written about it here before, but I don’t know who really reads this anyway. It wasn’t hard to write it out, though. It was natural. After I wrote it, I was almost surprised at how easy and matter of fact it came out. It really shouldn’t have been a surprise. My depression is a part of who I am, like it or not. (For the record, I don’t like it.) But there was someone out there that needed to see that someone else was having a hard time just like they were. Instead of hiding I said that I had that same problem, too. Easy. No worries about other people knowing about my depression or judging me because of it. I guess that isn’t something I’m worried about and I feel pretty good about that. Even if the writer part of my brain is broken, the compassionate, depressed, self-aware, self-loving part of me isn’t.  

I need some excitement in my life. Time to stir the pot. All a girl can do is just keep on keepin’ on until the writing gets easy again.