In the last eight months not one person has asked me why I have not written a blog post. I could be devastated, crushed, demoralized. I could decide to scrap the whole thing.
Maybe I should quit.
But I am not going to. Not yet.
Why bother, you may ask, if no one even notices when you are missing?
Because even though no one wondered enough to ask me why I was no longer posting new content, when I looked at the analytics of my blog I discovered that even in my absence, new readers continued to discover the old posts. I have always said if my writing helps even one person, then it is worth my time.
I began my blog after reading “Let’s Pretend This Never Happened” by Jenny Lawson. I discovered beside writing memoir, she also had a blog: www.thebloggess.com
Her writing focuses on her day to day struggle with anxiety and depression. She writes authentically, with sarcastic humor. She is an inspiration to me, as is every person trying to live their best life with health difficulties, either mental or physical. I would say that is damn near all of us this past year or so. And if it isn’t “us”, then it is someone near to our hearts.
Jenny now has two follow-up books to her debut memoir. Her struggles continue; her writing does too. Maybe Jenny Lawson doesn’t just write for an audience. Maybe she writes to save her life.
Maybe I don’t just write my blog posts for you. Maybe they are for me too.
If this post seems incoherent and scattered, you are not wrong. You would also be right if you guessed that is a reflection of my state of mind over the last eight months since my last post.
I did not write new blog posts because I typically wish to add a dose a humor to my stories. I’ve always been able to find humor in any situation, but over the course of the past months, even my dark medical humor was missing. And that folks is how I know I have not been myself.
I know I am not alone. Though I have not been present here, I have not been in seclusion. I have been off cavorting with words in other places. I’ve been in online courses and writing groups with other “creatives”. I’ve felt the weight of the longing for normalcy in our days, human connection, and the yearning for creativity to spark once again, in myself and others.
I’ve decided to stop waiting for creativity to strike like lightning, for the light bulb to appear over my head, and instead just get butt in chair, pen to the page, fingers to the keyboard, and let the magic return one word at a time.
And isn’t that how magic happens? Take a leap and believe.