But I miss it. If I'm being honest, I've missed it for a long time. I quit writing because I thought I didn't need it anymore. I had an English degree in hand, a grown-up job, a husband, and a sense of self-confidence I hadn't possessed all those years I had made regular entries in my journal. Quite simply, I know who I am, I know where I'm going, so I no long need to write as in order to discover those things. I came to see writing as another childish artifact of my youth, and truly believed I had outgrown it.
I now realize that it's more than that though. Writing is a way to record how life's moments make you feel, make you think. How do you work through those things without a pen and paper? I've managed as much for the last seven years, but while I have memories of how I felt on my wedding day or when my mom was diagnosed with cancer, I can never go back and read exactly what I thought about those events as they happened because I neglected to write about them.
Somewhere along the way I got the idea that I had run out of interesting things to say. Even as I write this, I'm questioning whether it's worth anyone's time to read it. And at the same time, I know that I didn't always write worrying if anyone else found my words interesting. I wrote to sort things out and generate new ideas -- it didn't matter that it was only for me. At some point I stopped treating writing as personal, and felt like it wasn't necessary if an audience wasn't involved. So I've strung together some small food writing pieces and a couple of humorous posts about mountain biking, but I've refrained from even attempting to tackle anything of substance. Writer's block? Maybe. But if anything, it's self -imposed. I stood in my own way, convinced I knew best about what's blog-worthy and refused to write anything that didn't fit my definition. A lot of good that did; not only did I fail to write anything blog-worthy, I failed to write anything at all.
Those who know me best know I'm capable of turning a good phrase, and remember when I used to make time for journaling or how excited I became when the spark of an exciting idea came to life. Then those same people ask why I haven't written anything lately, and I'm too embarrassed to admit I don't know where to start. I stopped practicing and what once came easily now seems so daunting that I talk myself out of trying before I even start.
My friend's answer to how she manages to find time to write? She says you have to be a little bit crazy, and now that I think about it, when you write regularly, the urge to write can become so intense that it feels like if you can't get to it immediately, you might go a little bit crazy with the waiting. And I've ignored that itch for so long that I didn't even realize what was causing it. It's harder than it used to be, finding the words, arranging them in the proper order, and getting them out of my head and onto paper, but I'm willing to make the effort so long as the words are still willing to come.
