I spent an entire therapy session talking about blogging and what it's done for me mentally. The catharsis, the feedback, the growth, the support, the love, the therapy, the ability to help people feel less alone. It hurts to not do that. It's this dull ache in my fucking soul; desperately needing to have that purpose in my life.
I think it's natural to need a break from anything after 10 years. But that break has had a two-fold result.
1) Once I lost that habit, I've found it unbelievably difficult to reacquire.
2) And a rather intense realization. Oh my GOD, I fucking NEED it in my life!
I want to spend the weekend writing. Scribbling. Spewing. Outlining the things I want to share. (Topic suggestions always welcome.)
I think it's time.
(Secret: If I'm lying in bed on my laptop - i.e. always - and I desperately want to do something, I can't stop sliding my feet together. I know that's insane. But I RIGHT NOW I CAN'T STOP RUBBING MY FEET AGAINST EACH OTHER! I NEED TO WRITE!)
Friday, March 8, 2013
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Here's another sign of being an introvert...I can express myself so much better with writing. The words seem to flow easily for me.
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