I connected with someone the other day who is thinking of starting a blog. I told her that I loved my blog because it keeps me writing everyday. It’s like exercise for the writing muscles.
Tonight, I sit here begrudgingly doing my work out. I realize its a little bit hard to exercise when I’ve packed away my equipment. I don’t want to be regurgitating the stuff I read in books on this blog anymore. And at least for now, I don’t much want to read self-help/spiritual books either.
I had a conversation last week and someone quoted from a self-help book. Afterward it just hit me, oh my God that’s what I sound like. I have so enjoyed all I’ve learned from my books. They’ve been a lot like my mom’s cream corn and biscuits-made me feel full, happy, and loved. Yet there comes a point when I need to find my own voice again.
If I’m annoyed or angry, I just want to feel that instead of trying to figure out why I have attracted this situation into my life and what I am supposed to learn from it. I don’t want to visualize myself in my dream life because how the heck do I know if I’ll even like it once I get there? I don’t want to go dredging through my memory bank trying to find some long-forgotten hurt so that it will explain why I haven’t dropped this last 15 pounds. And no matter how much I want to, I can’t be convinced that everything is really perfect when from where I’m sitting a good bit of it looks like Hell.
So, I’m struggling like you wouldn’t believe to get anything onto this screen at all. I’m really disenchanted right now and am not quite sure what to make of it. A couple of years ago I read a book that basically in the intro said that you shouldn’t read it or any book like it. Supposedly the answers are already where you need them-inside you. I’m not sure if I believe that in this moment either, but I know at the very least I’ve got to clear things out for a while.