My heart breaks when I think of writing. I’ve taken a hiatus from writing – anything really. Including lists. And I love lists, I used to live off lists.
I used to live on paper. My diaries, journals, planners, little books of this or that, to represent this or that, defined my days.
For the past six months, I’ve been living my life through actions. It sounds so simple, but it is a new way of living for me.
And it feels great – it feels like things feel, not like the way I imagine they would feel.
There are no longer “shoulds” or “shouldn’t’s,” but “do I” or “don’t I.”
The only downside of living in the present tense is the sacrifice I have made fromm my writing, the place that birthed me and the place that still houses so many feelings that, unwritten, blush through me and fade.
Does not recording it make it less real? Does just living it make it more real? I don’t think either are true, but my longing says otherwise.
How to live and write? How to do both, that the question. I suppose that is what I am doing at this moment.
You see, I have so much to say, especially now that I’ve been quiet for so long and have spent time feeling life rather than recording the feelings of life. Now I want to record what that feels like!
Let me start with right now. I have my “I’m not weird, I’m limited edition,” cup sitting next to me. And on the other side of me is my roommate’s cup, steaming in synchronicity with my own.
What are my goals for today? That is the question I ask myself each day, often more than once. Then before bed, I remind myself I did a thing, and I give myself permission to breathe easy.
A mental list of chores overtakes my brain. Okay. No good. I remind myself that I must do things for the sake of doing them, trusting that the reward is inherent. Yikesss. Procrastination. There are so many things I get to do – Hobby Lobby, grocery run, the breaking of the fast, yoga class, the list goes on. . .
Logging off for now, as I feel ready to do another thing. Until next time!