For about a month now I’ve been feeling sluggish and uninspired to do any sort of writing whatsoever. Yes, I’m sure the lack of updates to this blog is glaringly obvious I am having some issues. There are many things I should be blogging about: my recent turn around the sun, my plundering of yarn stores, my Beltane experience with added drama llamas. And yet, I don’t. I himm, I haw, I cringe, and then reach for a pure distraction. Oh look. Laundry. Gee, I think it’s time I re-organized my tribble-sprouting yarn stash. How about I do uninteresting Facebook statuses? Sorry, did you say something? I was dressing up my virtual pet named “Elphie” on Petville.
Even at this moment of ticka-tacka-typing I am struggling (or as Mr. Gaiman eloquently puts it, “trudging through fog”) to get the words out because it feels like a chore. Not in the “Every Writer Must Write Every Day Even If It Sucks” or the lame ass excuse of “I must await the arrival of my MUSE.” It’s more than that. It feels like much of the things I love to do, I simply don’t care anymore. I’d rather float and waft about barely touching the surface of anything of substance.
My heart is simply not in it.
And that scares the shit out of me. I have always been lead by my heart and tempered by my brain’s common sense. To attend a Beltane festival and simply not get into it, to want to write and simply get all flaky because it’s a burden isn’t like me at all. Granted, the moment I stop loving to Dance, now THAT is when I would seriously consider my mental status.
Knitting is a wonderful distraction from writing. I’m still creating something, but it’s for me and I’m always proud with how far my skills have come since I started this little hobby just over a year ago. Writing is different. I do it for me and for others. I’ve been doing it longer and I’m much more critical of myself.
So rather than blog or ink out short stories, I knit and watch movies. I want to change that. But to change it I need to figure why my heart has been so squished and stressed and wounded as of late.
Self-awareness can be a bitch sometimes.