I started writing in January because I had something to say. I wanted to record what I was feeling honestly and accurately with the hope it might help someone else.
Entries would flow. Words would come. Emotions drove my writing and I think most of it made sense. I never drafted and edited what I wrote because I wrote on the edge of emotional breakdown and I felt editing it would do one of two things. Either it would be dishonest, because I would lose authenticity, or I would be emotionally affected by my own words and potentially spiral again.
I’ve been improving and returning to some sense of normality for a few months now. And the words don’t flow any more. The stark, raw emotions do not drive what I write. I still feel those things, but reason rules the surface. It’s control is stretching downward and that is comfortable–for me it’s necessary and normal.
But I can no longer write with the passion I had before. I feel as though I have less to say. I don’t have things that are as helpful.
Can I pivot to provide insight to another aspect of my life? Will that be as helpful to me or to someone else?
These questions should be on my mind more than they have been if I am to answer them.
But perhaps all I need is to take the time to write. I’ve been busy lately.