Funny how timing affects events in our lives, yet how we only ever realize it in hindsight. Some things for the better, others not. Regardless, it's a hidden factor I'd like to congratulate for being so elusive. Although this is a blog, I don't often write here with the purpose of "blogging," as the content that I post is usually something I have written or worked on previously. This is not to say it is never recent, because a majority of what I have posted has resulted from an accumulation of thoughts, and personally I'd rather post something worth reading than something fresh and ragged or sloppy. What often makes it "blog-worthy" is the content and tone of each post, a majority of which are usually snippets of my writing, or thoughts I've dwelt upon that I feel are worth sharing.
Given the chaotic nature of my life at school during the past few months, I haven't paid much attention to my personal writing, which of course shouldn't be an excuse, but it really is the reason. I'm constantly kicking myself with the reminder that the best writers write daily, no matter what it's about, it's the practice that counts. I can't spend my life waiting on inspiration or going with the flow of my emotions, which unfortunately has become my most recent struggle.
Instead of giving something up this Lent, I've decided to put a few things into my life during this period, including flossing daily (it's a challenge and you know it! but if it's not for you, i admire your commitment) and making other small personal efforts. I've also become determined to re-focus some of my energies, including how I've been handling my emotions. Recent events, for lack of a more suitable neutral phrase, have caused a lingering pang of emptiness to inhabit my heart, to say the least. As a mature adult I've been resisting the temptation to throw tantrums and rant, as I am dealing with emotions too demanding to suppress. Instead of surrendering to the weakness of dumping them onto others and venting my personal thoughts publicly where they do not belong, I've decided to channel them to my journal– you know, the thing I can write in and no one will ever have to know the extent or depth of my thoughts– which I highly doubt anyone would particularly mind. Communication is important during this time, but I certainly don't want to abuse it, so I have decided that writing to myself will be my personal therapy, as it has been a safe place for that in the past.
By writing at least once a day, I'm hoping to eventually overcome such emotions or perhaps exhaust them until I have successfully moved onto writing about more impersonal subjects, which I will then feel more comfortable about posting. It will be a process, but given the severe abandonment I've allowed to my writing, and the current place of dwelling for my mind these days, I feel that it is the best place to restart the habit with a healthy motive.
I'll be okay, eventually;
"I'm not together but I'm getting there."