I can’t believe it has been over a year since I posted anything here. So much has happened, and there is no way to catch up. So I will begin afresh. (Is afresh a word? I don’t know, but it sounds very literary).
I have realized a few things about myself in the last two and a half years. I am not as patient as I once thought I was, I need a fair amount of quiet time, and I can bake a mean cake. But those aren’t really relevant. The biggest thing is that I write best when I am writing for myself. I really appreciate the encouragement many people have given me, telling me how much they love my blogs and how I should write a book, but once I actually started writing a book I got a serious case of writer’s block. I got stuck, and put too much pressure on myself. So I will be writing for myself, and if you get something out of it, or if it eventually is made into a book or a Lifetime Original Movie (because I’m fairly certain my life story wouldn’t work for a Spike original series), then so be it.
In every house I have lived in there is a place where I store things. It may be a closet, it may be a garage, but somewhere there is a place where things go when I don’t know what else to do with them. I’m not good at getting rid of my things. I am, however, great at getting rid of Ashley’s things (or at least suggesting that she get rid of them – I haven’t been married for 18 years and learned nothing). So when I have something that I want to keep but don’t have a place for it, I put it in that place. This is not terrible – especially when the place is not visible or you don’t have to pass it very often. But then you need something, and you are fairly certain that it is in your storage place, and you have to take a deep breath and dig in.
I bring this up – not to audition for “Hoarders,” but because I have realized the same is true of my mind. I have a place in my mind where I store things that I don’t need or know what to do with. Memories, information, goals, insights…there are a ton of things that I keep tucked away – out of sight and out of…well, you know what I mean. I have most of three good books (and one bad one) in there, if only I could dig through and organize it all. The more stuff that is in there, the bigger the mess, and the more I avoid it. I know that I need to deal with it somehow, but some things are too big to move, some things don’t have a place to go and, to be honest, some things are just too painful and I want to keep buried.
I have found that writing is the best way for me to sort through my junk. Good for me, but bad for you. (I am writing this with the assumption that someone will read it. If you are reading this, thank you. If you aren’t…then carry on.) I can record my insights, organize my thoughts somehow, or at the very least get rid of useless bits of information that I have been storing. Maybe if I can get some of this mess organized, I can finally get something accomplished.