I managed to get out of the house for a little bit yesterday which was nice. It gave me a chance to socialize with my support structure and to take a break from my solitude. It also gave me time to think away from home and recharge my creative battery. I hadn’t realized how much I had actually needed that time away from home and my desk until I got back to the house last night and cried. We are talking large, whole body sobs of emotional release. 

My mother says I have a pretty cry. This was NOT my pretty cry. 

Apparently I have been stuffing my true feelings just a little bit. I had not been facing some of my biggest insecurities and fears truly. Those fears and insecurities of being useless, unable to function, and destined to live my life as nothing but a lay about without anything meaningful to contribute to society. 

I mean, yes, I have been writing in my blog and mentioning these fears and frustrations. But I really have been skating over it and not facing it down too hard or looking in the mirror too close. I think a large part of why is because I’m scared. 

I am scared. 

I have, for some reason, wrapped my self worth and value up into what I can contribute to a job or with my knowledge. I have decided that my importance and value as a human being is tied up in what I bring to the table and that my feelings, my needs are somehow less important or valuable now that I can’t work. That I can’t really ask for what I want or need without feeling like I am burdening other peoples lives with my own inabilities. 

That’s not the case however. I know logically it is not. I have value as a human and I have a right to get my emotional needs met. 

My feelings are valid. Very much so. 

Logically I know this but in my emotional state it is hard to remember as much and that is where my struggles lay. I have decided I need to start seeing a therapist again- which honestly, I should have been doing in the first place. This is a huge life changing event. I am going to need some professional help. 

But, in the meantime, I have tools and options to help keep me from totally falling into a pit of despair, self-loathing, and woe. 

Enter my creative battery. 

As mentioned in previous posts ( enter post name here) I make a TERRIBLE house wife. I talked a lot about this with my future sister-in-law (I love that woman almost as much as I love her brother) about this fact yesterday. She is a housewife and stay at home parent currently and was able to give me a lot of much needed support and guidance as well as tips to keep me from going totally insane. She also gave me reassurances that it is an acquired skill and that it will get better over time. (Thank you so much darling for your marvelous insights!)

One thing mentioned, again, was the need for hobbies/activities I enjoy that aren’t just cleaning or taking care of the animals. I felt reassured that I am on the right path with picking up my writing again. And not just this blog but other writing as well. 

I love this blog but there is only so much I can write about myself and my struggles in a given day. Sometimes the need to create is strong and I have something to fall back on. 

My book. 

I started writing this book back in 2018 just before going to college for my Bachelors of the Arts if Creative writing focused on Fiction. It was my inspiration to go back to school actually. I was 8 chapters into it, stalled out, frustrated, and had no idea what I was doing. So, to school it was!

Unfortunately, I got distracted and demotivated and dropped the book. I haven’t touched it much since then but the idea for it has stayed strong in my head. It has helped that I have also had my mother chirping in the background every so often with her “when are you going to finish that book so I can read it?” 

I tried so hard to get my mom to read my book as I wrote it and she refused. Refused refused refused. It was so annoying and disappointing but in hindsight I am so glad she didn’t. Those chapters were crap. Technically well written in many ways but so not a cohesive story and so bland in places. 

I have figured out, however, thanks to resources on the internet and my own schooling, what I was missing the first time I took a run at writing this book. I have a new direction, new motivation, time, and the ability to create. 

Why not go back to writing my book? Why not find my way of contributing to society in my imagination and ability (natural and honed over time) to tell a good story. 

Alright mom, I have heard your desire to read my book. I’ll work on it. 

No- I’ll finish it.