I haven't felt much like writing here this past month. It isn't to say that I haven't thought about it though, I do think about it (as I think of many - too many - things) often. There are a number of reasons I could list, but I fear I wouldn't know where to end that list, or begin it for that matter. I'd love to say that I've been busy, but that wouldn't be entirely true. But perhaps I have been busy being curled up in hibernation mode, waiting out the rest of winter like a child waiting for the rain to stop falling. I love winter, so I shouldn't feel this way, but I'm craving the sunshine now.
I've been in the middle of a personal ebb and flow of emotion and feeling, unable to settle on one thought process at a time. One moment I'm bursting over with joy, and then it slips and falls into introspection. Maybe it's getting on time to unplug for a little while, turn away from the overwhelming internet, and take a walk down the straight line of the train tracks. Turn away from the blaring opinions on Facebook; turn away from everyone else's apparent happy perfection.
A few months ago, at the turn of the new year, I was suffering from many mixed emotions, trying to figure out my place in everything, trying to figure out myself really. I began writing furiously every day, and it helped me so much, just taking the time to listen to my own voice, to figure out myself what I needed. I wrote until I had no thoughts left, like crying until there are no more tears (only more positively.) I was able to find an inner voice I didn't know was there, and I welcomed her as I would a new friend.
After many weeks of writing, it all just stopped. I had nothing left to say to myself about my emotions, I had exorcised all of those demons inside, emerging new, like the spring. I began to miss the act of writing, but when I sat down to do it, the words wouldn't come out. I found myself writing random, incoherent thoughts because at least they were something. I eventually gave in though, and accepted that I was simply in a good place, and that I no longer needed the help of my inner voice, so I let her rest for a while.
This week though, I've found myself once again spiralling into another flurry of thought. I'm once again feeling trapped inside a snow globe of swirling words of self doubt. I know this is all a process of finding myself, but I'm honestly growing tired of searching. It's difficult not to think that around every corner of discovery, there is someone there wagging a finger at me, and pushing me back to where I came from. It's only me allowing these naysayers to do this though, I welcome them into my thoughts and pull out a nice, comfy chair for them right next to the one despair is sitting in. I stand there, in front of both of them, listening, but trying not to believe the words, deciding not to sweep the cobwebs off of them.