I wanted to share something beautiful today. I wanted to walk with words and have you walk with me. Instead, I walked alone, tending to myself for a time. It was needed.
It was strange, coming back to the place of words and feeling weary of the page. I've never experienced it before. Writer's block, yes, but word-weariness, no.
I had to think about it. What had happened? After my time wandering woods in silence--a much needed escape--I think I know.
I have been telling the truth. It is hard, hard work. I have been honest about the hurt, pain, fear and trials I am going through. Every time I sit down, regardless of what I want to write, this is what escapes. And it has tired me. I am exhausted.
The truth of my life right now even falls into my fiction. I felt trapped. Lost. Ready to quit for a minute. Lay down, declare defeat. I needed to locate the hinge so I could know where to push and shift.
Today, breath is the hinge. I trod softly into that doorway. I see a light. I'm almost through.
images via pixabay.com
