Sometimes, most of the time, what I want is not what I need. I think.
(I realized that this post is going nowhere)
After months of no writing, I don't even know why I haven't written, but I am feeling rusty. I feel like my last few writings have been about how I am going to do better at writing, write five minutes a day, even if I don't feel like it, blah blah blah. So, that hasn't happened. But I have started to do a little bit of writing sidework for my friend's company and let me tell you, I look forward to putting those words together. Even if it is about self help, which I am not such a big fan of, but the clicking of the keys, the rushing of thoughts, the reminder of why I LOVE to write, no matter what. Whether it be self help, college essays, lesson plans, grocery lists. It is an illness, nay, a deep and abiding desire for me to express myself in this way. So, why do I put it off? Why don't I write all the things that I thought, "Hey, I should write this down." Why? I have no idea. Sometimes we are our own worse enemies. Sometimes I think, "Why start? The kids will come running, crying, begging for something that they need and I'll lose track of my thoughts. My muse will go running for the door in full terror at the thought of four children in summertime. And she might not return. But honestly, I have written for four minutes and seven seconds and I now have Brooke next to me doing learning book work and the other kids aren't running to me in insanity. I can see the sunlight, hear the mowers outside, feel the summertime chill that should prevail. So, what I want to do is write. Who cares how often, who cares what about, who cares if I share. But I want to write!
Me at our "private beach". Not sure why I have this photo for this post, but it felt like I needed to because I do need to this for me and my mental well being.