Hey All –
I spent all day yesterday avoiding writing.
The night before, with my youngest on in tow, I had to unexpectedly put my cat down. The Colonel was distraught, and to cheer him up, my teacher friend offered to take him to Starbucks before school and let him play in her classroom – something he loves to do. For the first time ever, we overslept, didn’t hear her knocking on the door or texting me.
Epic fail for such a sweet offer.
Needless to say, we also missed the bus, and I was too lazy to drive him to school, so he stayed home with me. We spent the day Christmas shopping and talking about death. You know, light conversation with an eight year old.
But that’s not what this post is about.
The truth is, I used Meg’s death and my son’s subsequent grieving as an excuse to not write. I had (have) a chapter to get back to Jamie and blog posts to write for my PR firm. And then there’s this blog. Normally, I use these posts as warm-up for my longer writing. It’s not unusual for me to write from 9-5. But yesterday, I couldn’t write a word no matter how hard I tried.
Those who have followed me here from Always Yours, Bee know I’m a prolific blogger. They also know I tend to write raw and emotional, and am very open about my personal life. Which is why I had a problem yesterday. What I wanted to write, what I needed to write, I couldn’t. Not on this blog. I kept thinking about who in the audience was reading this, and I couldn’t stop censoring myself out of fear of hurting someone’s feelings.
This is why I privatized AYB – it wasn’t anonymous anymore, and, despite me trying to keep my private and public blogs separate, several people I know started reading AYB. Suddenly, my quiet life became fodder for the gossip mill, and my very real emotions were treated as entertainment.
Anyway, as I curled up in bed last night, I wondered if maybe my avoidance was a sign I’d lost my passion for writing. Bug asked me a few questions, and it all kept coming back to my audience. Who am I writing for? Why am I writing? What am I afraid of?
The answers shared one common denominator.
So today, I’m punching a hole through my fear. I’m going to stop self-censoring, and just write. I’m going to write because it’s not passion I’m lacking, but courage. However, I’ve faced far worse things than a blank page.
I just have to remember that.