I have avoided this blank page for quite some time now. I have drowned myself in a flood of “Nashville” episodes and long, hot baths. I feel drained of words that matter. I could tell you funny stories. I could make you laugh. I could spew out something quick and witty. Problem is it would last only a moment. You wouldn’t carry it with you for the rest of the day, the week, the month. It wouldn’t make you think.
Words with weight are hard to produce. I cannot sit at this computer and simply open my heart and let it pour onto the page. I have tried. I have tossed around topic after topic in my mind. I could tell you about my fascination with celebrity divorces. (Ben and Jen really hurt, y’all.) I could tell you how my husband took my daughter to the doctor where she got a flu shot and took it like a champ. (Last time she was there, I had to chase her around the hospital parking lot for 15 minutes. I, no doubt, looked like I was trying to abduct her.) I could tell you how I watched my friend’s kids for an entire weekend. (I never once lost my cool. I was basically Jesus for 48 hours.) None of this matters.
I know, I know. Woe is me. Kids go to bed hungry every night. Animals are in danger of being extinct. People are dying for this country. My writer’s block pales in comparison. The truth is, I love to write. Stories fuel me. When I choose to ignore those passions, I get really low. Depression will always be a thing in my life. Typically, it stirs after I have been sick or injured (your trapezius is not a dinosaur). Lately, though, I can feel its bite when I think about writing.
When I have time to write, I have to make a decision: blog or book? Choosing between the two is difficult. Like in “The Good Son” when Jamie Lee Curtis is forced to choose between saving Elijah Wood or McCauley Caulkin from a painful death. I have two very clear outlets for my passion and they both need attention equally. I have to choose which one I want to spend time with first. The one left behind will be the one falling to its death. Jamie Lee Curtis made a decision. I am knee deep in indecisiveness. I would have dropped both kids off the cliff and started over. There are millions of kids without a mother.
I don’t even open my computer. I just walk past it and nod. “I see you, Old Friend, but I have a date with Hulu Plus.” I pretend not to see the texts from friends asking about my blogging absence. I tell myself I will write when Ben Affleck and Jennifer Garner get back together. (Seriously, it is killing me.) I ignore any new novel ideas. I push them to the back of my brain.
This whole post seems like whining because it is. I am a 33-year-old who struggles with time management. Surely, I cannot be alone. I have read many a books talking about giving myself a break. Allowing grace to come in. Although I fully agree with that sentiment, it is not fitting to my current circumstance. It has nothing to do with me not giving myself grace or allowing myself some time off and everything to do with me being defiant and lazy.
I told myself from the beginning of this blog that I would be open and honest. This is where I am. Time management is my current struggle. Also, Ben and Jen. It can’t be over. I just won’t allow it.