I had a very strange experience yesterday. I woke up and felt very odd and different than usual. I thought I must have finally reached emotional overload, because I just felt numb. Not good, or bad, or anything at all. Then, partway through my commute, I started feeling again. “There it is,” I thought to myself. (This, of course, only serves as more evidence of how horrible the T is. Even when it’s not.)
I have this thought that some of the things in my past – and present – that I haven’t fully processed are part of why I can hardly write anymore. Blocking reality is blocking creativity. Whether any of these things are actually having an effect on my ability to write or not, I still think it might be time I thought more about them. There are some things I will not go into, either because this is not the right forum for them or because I don’t have enough facts to know what really happened (and I don’t write speculative non-fiction).
When I do delve into some of these things, opening myself up for criticism, pity, or any other negative response to my experiences and thoughts, I hope very much that you don’t think less of me or of my blog when you read them. (Especially the blog. It hasn’t done anything wrong!)
Considering how hard it is for me to really open up to anyone, let alone the entire internet, I doubt this will happen often. I’m talking about it now because it is a departure from my original intentions for this blog, which was only meant to be used as a place to share my creative work and thoughts about writing. At this point, though, this seems like it’s going to be part of my writing process, so you get to read it.
I almost hope that you don’t.