Keep writing until I have a focus.
The resistance quickly follows because there seems to be little clarity about what direction I am heading. This is true for my writing and my life in general at the moment. I know all is well, but the space can be unsettling. The urge to write remains so strongly amidst the cluster of indecision. People say they want to read my writing. "Write a book," seems to be the public outcry. The focus isn't clear yet. "Just write Faith," continues to ring away in the head.
Warning - it will be random thoughts that may not make any sense (refer to the title in case you forget). Terrible grammar and sentence structure warnings are included in this disclaimer as well. Free flow is the format.
What is swirling through my swiss cheese brain (due to Lyme Disease, viruses, autoimmune encephalitis, intractable migraine or whatever words of the day you would like to use) is how much the act of writing just makes sense. Everything else feels very new and different. I am letting go of my career for a bit, not yelling at my kid or husband and overall being kind to myself. These are all foreign countries. Writing is familiar land. I can rest somehow when I write, even if no one ever reads it.
This being, without carrying the weight of the world on my back or controlling everything to the point of exhaustion, is freeing and terrifying at the same time. Writing feels as grounding as when I am doing Qigong in the mornings. There is a space that is created in this "just being" that was so terrifying before. No need to even allow or accept. Just move through the day one breath, one step, one moment at a time. So cliche I know, but it is working.
I just said to my husband, "When I write I lose my mind." He said,"You don't have to write to lose your mind." Ha ha. I think I do.
I have a friend that is running her way through her grief. Her husband writes. My healing needs both writing and moving (and resting the brain, a bit of spitting and hysterical laughter). My body seems to detox through spitting these days. I realize this is nasty but if it helps relieve the pressure in my head that feels like aliens have taken up residence, then I'll do it.
I guess it is just finding that combo of what will support the healing and clear the clutter from the head enough that the truth comes through. Already, after just a short time writing, the self-doubt that had been seeping in all day is gone.
That is the key. Finding whatever will bring you back to the moment. Everything is okay in the moment. It is when we start piling on the past and the future that the sandwich gets awful heavy. Tonight writing worked. Who knows what tomorrow will bring.
The resistance quickly follows because there seems to be little clarity about what direction I am heading. This is true for my writing and my life in general at the moment. I know all is well, but the space can be unsettling. The urge to write remains so strongly amidst the cluster of indecision. People say they want to read my writing. "Write a book," seems to be the public outcry. The focus isn't clear yet. "Just write Faith," continues to ring away in the head.
Warning - it will be random thoughts that may not make any sense (refer to the title in case you forget). Terrible grammar and sentence structure warnings are included in this disclaimer as well. Free flow is the format.
What is swirling through my swiss cheese brain (due to Lyme Disease, viruses, autoimmune encephalitis, intractable migraine or whatever words of the day you would like to use) is how much the act of writing just makes sense. Everything else feels very new and different. I am letting go of my career for a bit, not yelling at my kid or husband and overall being kind to myself. These are all foreign countries. Writing is familiar land. I can rest somehow when I write, even if no one ever reads it.
This being, without carrying the weight of the world on my back or controlling everything to the point of exhaustion, is freeing and terrifying at the same time. Writing feels as grounding as when I am doing Qigong in the mornings. There is a space that is created in this "just being" that was so terrifying before. No need to even allow or accept. Just move through the day one breath, one step, one moment at a time. So cliche I know, but it is working.
I just said to my husband, "When I write I lose my mind." He said,"You don't have to write to lose your mind." Ha ha. I think I do.
I have a friend that is running her way through her grief. Her husband writes. My healing needs both writing and moving (and resting the brain, a bit of spitting and hysterical laughter). My body seems to detox through spitting these days. I realize this is nasty but if it helps relieve the pressure in my head that feels like aliens have taken up residence, then I'll do it.
I guess it is just finding that combo of what will support the healing and clear the clutter from the head enough that the truth comes through. Already, after just a short time writing, the self-doubt that had been seeping in all day is gone.
That is the key. Finding whatever will bring you back to the moment. Everything is okay in the moment. It is when we start piling on the past and the future that the sandwich gets awful heavy. Tonight writing worked. Who knows what tomorrow will bring.
