So, Here I Am…

Wandering in past posts and pages that I have abandoned as of late.  I can’t seem to  ground myself long enough and delve into my mind to pull out the words that lend an exhale as they meander their way across the page.

Some say that you should exercise your ‘writing muscle’, if you will, everyday.  No matter the outcome it’s the exercise itself that is important.  Others say, only write when you have something to say. Something organized.  I can’t even organize my purse these days let alone my thoughts!  They’re both a jumble of things that I’ve held onto, for no apparent reason.  Receipts that I can’t read anymore, feelings that I can’t seem to remember where they originated.  Things I carry around out of habit, for if I have them I won’t need them, but the minute I let go, their need will be required.  Then there’s the fear, “What if I don’t have anything to say?”  No gut wrenching pain I need to expel.  No immense happiness that just can’t be contained.  ”What if I forget ‘how’ to write?”

I mean, seriously, I have a lot of shit going on!  And I have no idea how to take hold of it.  Neat little boxes?  Tied tight with pretty ribbons?  Or tossed up in the air in the hope that the unpatterned settling will expose a solution?  And the thing is, I feel like I can’t breathe.  I’ve been holding my breath for so long that something drastic needs to happen.  Well, something drastic in a controlled and organized manner.  Maybe I’m not only afraid to put it all out in print, but to actually facilitate an action as well.

To separate my writing from life.  Step out of the continuous loop of thoughts or hone in and force their hands?  I’m in a holding pattern.  In my writing and in my days.  I want to, I need to…. breathe.