Another late night…

In my perceived reality of time, according to the clock on my desktop, it is 1:22 am. My toddler is asleep on the couch, the apartment is a wreck, and I’m tired.. but sleepless yet again. I need to write. Both in my journal, and here.. and creatively as well… I just have a hard time pushing myself past the fears and initial discomfort I feel getting back into the motions again.

I guess if I had to come up with a similarity, imagine you’re someone who has managed to get really badly burned, but survive. You can feel the ache and the burn and the heat rising from your flesh, and you can feel the crispy layer of what used to be your skin. You know that the healing will come, that the new skin will be healthy and unmarred, but the process of healing comes with its own itches and pains.

That’s kind of how I feel about my writing. Kind of like I’m burned out, but I need to be able to stretch and itch, and that will reawaken the burn and pain. I know it’s good for me. So why is it so hard to try? Why is it so hard to push yourself out of a rut? I mean this in more than one way in my own life. I’ve found that I’m my own worst enemy. Once the fears run out of control, I just am lost.

But in writing I’ve found healing so many other times, it seems impossible to me that now should be any different… Or that even if I can’t write the way I want to today, now, that it will come back to me.

When you feel like you’ve lost your gift, it’s really hard to remember that it’s still there. It shines through sometimes, so bright it hurts, and then is gone in a flash… But it’s a flash that slices straight through to your soul.

I refuse to stop believing in myself.
I hope you believe in yourself. ā¤
Okay, I guess that's what I needed to say tonight! ā¤ Now to go drink my frappuchino and play some Guild Wars šŸ˜€ (Pre-Searing anyone?)


~ by araelysia on September 12, 2014.

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