It’s been a while since I’ve felt the urge to write. Write something for me that is. I write every day. I write all the words some days. They’re just not words for me. They’re words for clients. They’re words for Facebook. They’re, occasionally, words for my journal. They’re frequently words for emails. Oh, so many emails.
And then, once all the words have been written, I come to this blank space, this space that proclaims itself for all to see as being my space, my world, a reflection of my life, and I draw a blank.
Who is this Jessica who is meant to have enough of a life to write about?
Who has she become? Who is she in the process of becoming?
I seem to have lost track of myself so much that I no longer even have the capacity to write my own words.
I seem to have been struck dumb.
I always thought that losing the ability to type would be the worst thing that could ever happen to me, but I think this might be worse.
I can type. I just have nothing to say.
I mean, look. This is the first post I’ve published since September. This from a girl who used to blog daily.
Even in the midst of the worst of the last few years, I had words. So many words. So many I choked on them regularly. I wasn’t always able to write them down, to share them, but they were always there, always streaming through my head. Perfect sentences summing up my feelings, fears, worries, and yes, silver linings.
We’re out of the woods now. We’re supposed to be well into our recovery period. And yet, never has it been so hard for me to find the silver linings.
I am a creative person. I feel alive when I am creating, when I am working on a project that is a reflection of who I am, a reflection of a part of my soul.
I haven’t felt alive like that in a while.
I am determined this year to find myself again. To find my way back to that girl who delighted in creating for the sake of creating, not because it was expected of her.
I’m going to push through the disappointment of not becoming an overnight bestselling author and finish my second novel.
I’m going to push through the white noise in my head until I can find the words that shine again.
I’m going to forcibly pull myself up by my bootstraps until I recognize myself again or at the very least until I can see who I’m becoming.
My name is Jessica. This is the space where I share my life. It might change a bit over the next few months as I experiment with what I want that life to be. But I can promise you one thing, one way or another, I’m going to find my way back to the words, because the words are who I am, and it’s time for me to find myself again.