I've been working on this blog for over a month. Well, I've been seriously working on it for that long, anyway. When I decided to start this blog (for those of you who don't know me, this is my first blogging experience), I wasn't sure exactly what I wanted to write about. I've been half heartedly working on a semi-autobiographical novel, and thought that blogging would help me get my creative juices flowing. Its been quite a while since I wrote anything longer than a status update on Facebook.
As a child, I loved to read, and as I got older, that love of reading fostered a love for writing. A passion, really...when I was young, in high school and during my early 20's, I was a decent writer. I took it seriously, I worked on my craft, I wrote frequently. And I enjoyed it. I indulged myself with bound leather notebooks, fancy pens...I would sit and write for hours. I had a few things published in the school literary journal and the 90's magazine Sassy, but nothing to rave about.
As I got older, I became too busy to sit down and write a poem. I was also uninspired. I worked a hectic job, I was raising a child, caring for our family pets, running a house, being a wife. There were times that I'd sit and stare off into space, the ghost of a poem flickering in my thoughts...but then the dog would bark, needing to be fed, or my husband would ask about dinner,or my daughter needed help with homework. Or there was laundry to be done, or bills to be paid...it was always something. Of course, this was really no excuse. Most writers must balance writing with the frantic pace of living a normal life. Even when I had time to sit and write, the words wouldn't come. I had suppressed them for too long, it was no longer something that came naturally to me.
That's not to say that I didn't miss it. Writing was such a huge part of me that during the years, I felt the absence. It grew, like a small hole in my heart, until it became a giant void. And yet, I still did nothing. Even this life-change, my quitting my job to stay home, has nothing to do with writing. Having the time to write now is just a bonus.
And yet, here I sit, staring at the laptop for 15 minutes at a time before I can think of a sentence to type out. Its madness, really. I used to have so much to say, where did all of those words go? I have to retrain myself to think a certain way. My 'way with words' is gone. I must focus, concentrate, mull over each blog post for hours. Each word is chosen carefully. Dictionary.com is now at the top of the list of my most frequently visited websites. The words used to come so easily. Its depressing in a way; the old adage is true about losing your gift if you don't use it.
Yet, there's hope for me yet. The perseverance is paying off. In the past few weeks, I've started to feel more myself than I have in a long time. I feel more whole, more complete...and peaceful.