04 – 28 – 2020
Writing is hard. It’s hard to think of something worth writing, especially when you feel like you don’t have much to say. Writing is scary because it reveals woes and worries, I hadn’t previously seen. Although I am scared and of writing, I love when a sentence flows with ease, so the idea just rolls off the tongue. I love that moment when a phrase speaks to you so much you have to stop and ponder the idea into existence.
I have taken two English classes this school year and I have to say I love my English classes for the simple fact that almost every teacher I have has shown me a deeper meaning to the words we read and write. Words don’t come easy though, hesitation consumes me anytime I try to even start writing. I think I put too much emphasis on writing something that means something, I want every line I write to be the jaw dropping idea that changes their life. Though that simply isn’t realistic. Maybe the less meaningful sentences all together add to the magnificence of my true meaning.
Before I can even concern myself with writing profound statements I have to learn to just write. To write clearly, without wandering from point to point until I find my point. Another thing I’ve learned in my English classes this year is the importance of editing. The whole process of writing is just that, a process. It is necessary to write meaningless withering words, because that’s how I work through my thoughts. When I see the words in front of my eyes, I can finally see what I need to say and what I need to change.
I have realized change has become something I loathe, alas it is the only thing certain in my life. Change comes with every aspect of life, love, home, family, age, health, wealth, and even writing. That scares the crap out of me and sometimes it seems to paralyze me. When I stop paying attention to the written words and instead become consumed by my fear, shame, embarrassment, and anxiety nothing can get me to leave the couch or the bed (whichever is comfiest in the moment).
This past weekend after missing some to dos with my blog, and only getting some of my schoolwork done I felt defeated. My planner was left with a lot of tasks not marked off, and I felt like I had failed at my dream of becoming a writer. I was exhausted and overwhelmed first by all the things on my to do list and second by my ever-increasing want to achieve the goals I set.
But even though I felt my overwhelming emotions begin to wash over all the hard work I have accomplished I decided to just relax. To distract myself I dyed my hair purple and gave myself a much-needed haircut, I was trying to go for burgundy and a slight trim, but you know when you start it’s hard to stop. It doesn’t matter though because I feel better, I bought makeup and did mine for the first time in I don’t know how long. I decided it was okay that I hadn’t gotten everything done, it was okay that I haven’t written my book yet, and It’s okay to rest before finishing my to do list.
From this weekend I found out that it’s okay to relax and be lazy sometimes, frankly it’s even necessary in order to prevent burnout. If I had pushed myself over the weekend instead of resting I don’t think I would have had the willpower to keep trying today. So yes, writing is hard, and sometimes getting out of bed is hard, so on those days I decide to take the hint from my body and rest. I compliment myself on my achievements and prepare for the future by caring for myself in the moment, however that looks. Most importantly I cannot continue to look down on myself when things get difficult, life is hard and I don’t want to just complain about that anymore. I want to take life’s challenges and make the best of it, and truthfully I am not going to let that excuse rule my life.
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