working through the rust

This getting back in the writing saddle isn’t easy. It’s creaky. It’s strange. It’s uncomfortable when writing used to flow like breathing.

I’m rusty.

Tentative.

Nervous.

Having said that, I’m relatively sure it’s all in there, waiting to be given space again.

My writing voice, which my kids say is remarkably like my talking voice and that’s what makes it so good (this unsolicited observation is one of endless reasons I’m eternally grateful to be their mother) was on hiatus for a long time. I’m not used to accessing this part of me.

I’ve been feeling so badly about myself lately—actually for a long time—about how little I’ve accomplished since my last book came out 3 years ago. But yesterday this mini refrigerator light bulb went off. All the things I thought were filler, were time fillers, were not significant enough to give credit to were actually all necessary to get me to here, a place where I’m ready to tackle something big on my own.

With FLOW I wasn’t ready. I didn’t know how to stand up for myself. To be heard and respected. To value my own opinion and worthiness. I let myself be treated like a light weight, a fluff ball, an intellectual subordinate. I gave myself no credit for who I was in the process and allowed the denigration of all I brought to the project to take over.

That destroyed my creative soul for awhile.

And I couldn’t put myself out there again.

Turns out I was putting myself out there in different ways. Building confidence, composure, conviction in who I am and what I do.

Donating a kidney was all about bravery and selflessness. Looking at a bigger picture and putting someone else first. Staring into the unknown and not running away.

Running a PTA was all about leadership and vision. Communication and organization. Creating systems and forging new paths. 

Being a more present mother was all about attention and focus. Living in the moment. Love. Empathy. Understanding. Instead of being so wrapped up in the side projects I always had going on I was able to be a better part of my family.

I’m feeling a little flow. Not much. This isn’t effortless like it used to be. I’m editing and revising as I type instead of letting it pour out with ease.

But that’s ok.

It’s still here.

Now it’s time to nurture it a bit.