Where to begin? What to say when the break has been this long?
I have two clear measures that tell me if I’m balanced – or not. (You’ll see why this is relevant to the questions above in a minute).
1. Consistent reading
The first one involves books. Simply put: I’m in a good place when I’m reading any type of book continuously – a few pages (or a lot more) every day. Mostly this would be in the morning with a cup of Earl Grey tea that tastes like heaven, accentuating the pleasurable reading experience even further. Or in the evening before going to bed, instead of watching Netflix, which tends to improve sleep. My desire to read is a byproduct of having enough headspace and peace of mind.
During tough times – in my case most recently between 2017 and 2019 – I just don’t pick up any book at all, not even fiction. I don’t feel like I want to read, nor do I have the energy for it (which really isn’t true, it’s just a feeling).
This one is much bigger and scarier to me.
Because in my life, writing is creativity in its purest form. In general, I’ve always considered myself to be very creative (something that can mean a million different things to different people) – I cook, I sing (not just in the shower, much to the amusement of my neighbours), I paint etc.
However, the biggest indicator of my wellbeing is not just any type of writing, but specifically storytelling (sadly, pouring my broken heart out into a journal doesn’t quite count when measuring creativity).
Today I came home after seeing my acupuncturist and I suddenly felt an intense urge to write. There was not one, but three (3!) blog posts bubbling up. I’ve had complete writer’s block ever since publishing this list about a month ago – and for almost a year before that.
The other day I was telling my bestie about that one time when I had to drink an extract made of out pigs’ brain (yes, true story, which I’ll save for another time) to help my gut heal. Spoiler alert: it didn’t work. We laughed about it and my friend said I should write about it, which just made me feel overwhelmed and jittery. I ended the conversation with “I don’t have anything to say….yet” and knew that I just had to wait for it.
Where to begin?
And so, I haven’t quite answered that question yet, mainly because so much has happened in a really uneventful way during the last 12 months. I’ve spent that time in silence, reading books, walking in the park and figuring things out with the help of 30 author gurus sitting in my apartment, telling me stories and teaching anything and everything about the topics I’m interested in.
Writing a book (yup!) has already taken me on such a profound journey and I’m excited to see where we’re headed next.
I have a lot to say, but I don’t know where to start or whom to write for. And on that note, I’m wondering:
Is anyone still out there?
(My mom took that photo last summer when I washed a carpet outside in pouring rain, something that I really enjoy doing, but that was also a little passive aggressive – given how unhappy I was and how badly I tried to escape myself).