I don’t really suffer from writer’s block. I can look around me and find a million things to say about every single thing I see. That pile of toys over there, testifying the fact that no one listened to my “no gifts!” plea on C’s birthday party invitation. That CD tower over there, bought at the Paris IKEA back when M and I were blissfully kid free and actually listened to music. I could even write about the room itself and the hassle it was to figure out where to put the furniture, or how we came to be living in this house.
No, there’s no shortage of material, I just don’t want to write about it. I’m boring myself, which doesn’t bode well for anyone reading what I write. Except I know that it’s not really boring, it’s more that I’m having a bit of a crisis, not of faith per se, just of self or at least of calling.
I’m at that point when I start to wonder what I’m doing, where I’m going. I’m questioning every decision, every aspect of my life. I get like this when the stuff that really fulfills me gets hard and challenging. Instead of facing the issue head on I procrastinate, play around, talk myself out of doing anything really constructive, and in the end hate myself for not doing what I need to do.
And what is it I need to do?
-I need to sit down and work on my book for more than 3 minutes a day.
-I need to get off my butt and run more often.
That’s it. Fix what’s in my head, fix what’s in my body. They go hand in hand.They make me feel whole again. They fill me with self worth.
What do I do instead? Anything. Nothing. Whatever. I’m like a kid with zero focus because it’s easier than knuckling down and doing what needs to be done. I waste my time and my energy on things that don’t matter. To steal from the magical world of comic books, it’s like there’s a force-field on the path that I’m on, and instead of letting me walk straight down the road, it pushes me to one side and then the other, it doesn’t even let me look straight down. I keep having to pull myself back on track, pull my eyes back front and center.
It’s simply exhausting and it drains me of the energy I need to keep myself moving forward. So where’s the superhero who’s going to destroy the force-field and keep me on track?