Nonsense
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Writer’s Block

 

How much more would I feel, if I couldn’t see?  How much could I see, if I couldn’t feel?

Frequently, the topic of writer’s block is addressed.  I’ve never addressed writer’s block, because it’s something, I haven’t experienced.  When I have nothing to write -I just don’t write.  I am confident the urge will flow -as I am a writer.  I need to spill upon my screen the words that fill my head.

However, recently I have struggled to find the time to write.  It isn’t because the time is not there -but other situations seem to be blocking my need.  It got me thinking about writer’s block -and the possible reasons we may experience this death.  I say “death,” as it is a type of death when my mind is blocked from words, when my fingers fail to tap upon my keyboard.

With the death of my ex-husband,  my daughter’s concussion -due to the bus accident, the death of a little girl I’ve followed for three years, the demand of publishing a book and the emotional toll of being responsible for another’s happiness, I am left feeling heavy.

When I am depressed, I pull into my own small world -absorbed by the emotions of others that rip further at my distress.  Every sad story because the center of my focus -drawing me deeper into my internal dialogue.

This must be a type of writer’s block.  Yet, I have the words  -they haunt me in the night.  I just can’t seem to find time to paint them across my monitor.  What lovely words they are, of love and determination.

Is it possible that I am backwards, floating through a life of emptiness?

Am I refusing to give over my words, so they will remain hidden within?

Can I crawl out of my mind and see before me, what I feel?

Can I begin to feel, what I don’t want to see?

Death.  Yes, death is upon me, when my words are hidden.

     I

                            must

                                                     step

                                                                              away!

 

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This entry was posted in: Nonsense

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I am a mother of 16 children and grandchildren. Some of them are by blood and the rest by heart. I was a foster mom for a few years and the children I cared for during that time have mostly stayed with me through the years. I love to write, read, dance, paint, and play with my animals. I enjoy dressage riding and just being in the barn. My words are my gift, as they allow you to know me as I really am. Thanks for joining me on this ride of life!

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