It's happened. It was inevitable, in spite of my sundry attempts to push through and write. I initiated but didn't finish. Ideas freely flowed and then haltingly splashed into a dead end over and over. Leaving me with an unused, muddy puddle of spent inspiration. Life got in the way.
I have been upping my training for Tough Mudder. I have buried myself in a new novel. I have come into the busy season with Relay For Life preparation. I am trying to spend more time with family. My dog is shedding her winter coat--vacuum again?! And my daughter is growing and expanding in her abilities and keeping me entertained and acutely on my toes.
So every time I start writing I find my eyes drooping. I re-read the same line a few times over due to an aversion to being misunderstood (oh, that unavoidable rogue). I second guess myself at an increasing rate. And so any effort doesn't seem to suffice...
Oh! Oops, I just fell asleep...
Maybe my apprehension is because I don't want to judge. I want to be positive. There are enough people criticizing and complaining in this world. I could think of a million topics floating around in my mind, from money frustrations to diet to marriage to dealing with crazy, selfish, lazy people. Complain, vent, stir up the pot.
I know there are many reasons I didn't start writing sooner in life. One was my disobliged attitude. I used to fret too much and it inexorably (or so I thought) became the sole focus of my attention. I needed to complain about all that wasn't fair. I needed change, and awareness was my sole route.
But being the squeaky wheel doesn't always mean you'll get the grease. Many people will just get a new wheel and leave the squeaky one to cry out to someone else instead of them. We live in a society that isn't used to putting in the effort to fix things when they could simply just get something new.
Or, they'll try to fix the squeak unsuccessfully. It'll remain in its noisy state. As a result, they'll begrudgingly just put up with it because they don't know what else to try. They'll accept it as is.
I didn't want people to be fed up with me. Though I'm sure that they were. I don't want them to just put-up with me either. Even though I always felt I had a valid reason to be a grievance ignitor. I was feeding the wrong fire. Kindling strife like a blaze-hungry firebrand. Conversely, nothing warms the soul like fanning the flames of gratitude, kindness, and love.
And the warmth is a catalyst for more beneficial conversation (out with the gossip, in with the appreciation). The warmth is an atmosphere relaxer that creates stronger relationships. The warmth is a forgiveness blanket that engenders second (third and forth) chances. The warmth is a comforting place to truly create positive memories.
I wish I was better at overlooking faults. I long to be more organized and somehow pleasantly assertive. But I know that isn't going to happen if my attention is zoned in on the problems. So I need to pull the constructive observations from the timeline of my day. There will always be something positively pragmatic to write about when I look at my growth, my beautiful family, my devoted husband, my Lord's forgiveness, my dreams, my silly moments.
There are a million good natured topics floating around my head. From people-watching insights to successful recipes to marital bliss to interactions with amazing people. They'll come out only if I give them my attention.
But for tonight, you just get this ramble about how they haven't come out this last week.