So, it's like this. I really need to write. I need to write desperately. It's a huge need for me, as a creative outlet as well as a way to resolve and reconcile my inner thoughts. And I’ve had so many of late, wrestling with each other and fighting for my short bursts of partial attention.
Writing was HUGE for me, for a significant number of years. But I let it go. I gave into pressures I felt related to what I wrote, and feedback about whether it was appropriate or not for me to voice such thoughts or feelings in a public forum. Although the source of those pressures would challenge the severity or intentions behind them, the comments were never received with anything more than the sense of being audited and edited. And I hated it.
Now that I find myself on the other side of the significantly serious illness, who's more horrible aspects I was gracefully spared, there is a great deal of introspection and re-evaluation to be done.
Since that event, I have said repeatedly that I want to focus on three key things: my health (both mental and physical), the responsibilities of being the best possible parent to my kids that I can be, and exceptional at my job, which can give me a great deal of personal satisfaction as well as ensure a career path that will allow me to afford to be mentally and physically solid, and provide for my kids.
Now that I have found myself back in the workplace, and back into what you might call the normal routine, I feel a creeping malaise and the draw of old habits beginning to suck the inspiration from my soul. I don't feel conscious. I don't feel mindful. I don't feel aware. I feel the habit of making checklists, of being concerned about responding timely to an email from work even in off hours, and of trying to remember 16 things to do while driving and listening to an audiobook about being productive and focused and mindful. It's all too much.
I think the most powerful thing I walked away from my GBS experience with is the recognition of the fragility of life. it was a true wake up call. Anything could happen at any moment and I could be paralyzed, compromised, or just plain dead. It's just a simple fact. Actually, it's not just a simple fact, it's an absolute eventuality that one of those things will happen.
I'm 53. What am I going to do with the rest of this time? How am my going to live this life? What kind of person do I want to be? These are huge, huge questions. Timely, and timeless. I’m not the first and I won’t be the last to ponder these thoughts. My own children will eventually ask themselves the same questions, and possibly reflect on the very words I’ve written myself over the years. Or more likely they’ll discount them as the foolish mutterings of somebody 50 years older than them, who didn't really understand or have a clue.
I don't believe that everybody wants to think about this type of stuff. I don't imagine most people spend time reflecting on the eventual end of their existence or their own weaknesses until the moments are upon them. Yet once you've found yourself in a hospital bed, unable to move, and you realize that good fortune has made your circumstances temporary, it does give you significant pause to reflect on the bigger picture, and what time and opportunities might be lay before you on a timeline you are not allowed to know.
So, it’s like this. I’m going to start writing again. Because writing helped me sort of this all out many, many years ago. Obviously, I didn't sort it out well enough to have it all reconciled and resolved. The musings and ramblings and introspection continue as they should. I personally feel that when you assume you have it all figured out, you miss the opportunity to learn that you still have further to go.
My goal for now will be to try to write for the next 21 days. I recall hearing that 21 days is what it takes to form a habit. It doesn't mean I will write about life’s big question each and every time, I'll probably throw a movie review or musical references or share some comical moments. But topics aside, I want to write daily again, capture my thoughts again, and get my creative juices flowing again. Hopefully as consistently and liberally as they once did before.