In which I admit to a serious case of writer's block...or maybe not?
I have never had such a lack of desire to write in my entire life.
Every day I open my computer, check social media/email, and generally use the Internet for more self-entertaining purposes such as videos, articles, and interactions with friends I can't physically see right now. I follow writers on both Facebook and Twitter, and I give my passive feedback with a like or a retweet. But Word is reserved for reading students' papers when I'm tutoring, and this blog was gathering so much dust that I had to recover my password just to get in.
On a regular basis, I remember that I used to blog once a week, whether my words were important to other people or not. The consistency comforted me with a warm blanket of validation. For four years of college and three years of camp, I wrote fiction and non fiction with joy that I couldn't explain. I justified my writing major because I was studying what I loved most and my fight to save that major was backed with every justice-seeking bone in my body.
I cried so many tears over that love for writing. I built a resume on a foundational desire to make the world a better place, one second draft at a time. But then I graduated and took a job that I thought I could do...and soon found out that I didn't have it in me. I fought so hard to convince myself that I was just impatient, that things would work out once my magazine went to print. When I finally held my chin up long enough to make the wise decision, I found that my previous resolve to write had been drained by my current desire to survive.
This isn't writer's block or procrastination, my friends. No, my cryptic paragraphs are a very late admission to my own fear and pride. A very real barrier in front of me since early June has prevented me from creating the art that I love so much. I knew that if I began blogging again, I would eventually have to acknowledge to all of you that I left my first post-college job in less than three months. Humiliating, if you hold yourself to an unreasonable standard. Life-saving, if you find yourself in a job that induces daily meltdowns on the floor of your summer apartment.
Yep. I quit my job after less than three months and started working as a delivery driver for Panera part time. I found a couple of one-time freelance editing jobs that pushed me into the next month. I gained some footing with Tutor.com as a writing and English tutor. I'm not even close to as financially stable as I would like to be yet, but my friends...I am finally emotionally stable. I don't dread waking up in the morning and I don't long for Friday afternoons anymore.
I still lowkey hate my life right now...it's been a blessing to have extended family and Julia's family close by, but I'm still in a new place without my best friends for the first time in three years. That's normal for college grads, I know. But it doesn't change how much I dislike the reality. There are so many experiences I want to tell all of you about. But I'm not quite ready yet. The way I view the world and Jesus and myself has changed so much over the last two years. That's partially why I have been running from talking about it here, I think.
I need more than just a like or a comment on this blog post. I need YOU, my friends. I need every one of you to remind me why I love to share my life experiences with other human beings in the form of writing. Whether we've known each other my entire life or six months, you still have more of an effect on me than you are aware. The words are inside me and they must come out, but it might take a group effort for me to feel okay with that happening.
Honestly I've only consistently listened to one artist lately. Heath McNease is seriously talented and his music (both rap and acoustic) plays in my car when I'm out on deliveries. Specifically the bridge of this song has both carried me and broken me over and over again. "Your grace is complete, supplieth my needs, unspeakable joy surprised me."
Surprised By Joy - Heath McNease
Love you all. Let's get back to a place where this is an outlet for me, hm?
Every day I open my computer, check social media/email, and generally use the Internet for more self-entertaining purposes such as videos, articles, and interactions with friends I can't physically see right now. I follow writers on both Facebook and Twitter, and I give my passive feedback with a like or a retweet. But Word is reserved for reading students' papers when I'm tutoring, and this blog was gathering so much dust that I had to recover my password just to get in.
On a regular basis, I remember that I used to blog once a week, whether my words were important to other people or not. The consistency comforted me with a warm blanket of validation. For four years of college and three years of camp, I wrote fiction and non fiction with joy that I couldn't explain. I justified my writing major because I was studying what I loved most and my fight to save that major was backed with every justice-seeking bone in my body.
I cried so many tears over that love for writing. I built a resume on a foundational desire to make the world a better place, one second draft at a time. But then I graduated and took a job that I thought I could do...and soon found out that I didn't have it in me. I fought so hard to convince myself that I was just impatient, that things would work out once my magazine went to print. When I finally held my chin up long enough to make the wise decision, I found that my previous resolve to write had been drained by my current desire to survive.
This isn't writer's block or procrastination, my friends. No, my cryptic paragraphs are a very late admission to my own fear and pride. A very real barrier in front of me since early June has prevented me from creating the art that I love so much. I knew that if I began blogging again, I would eventually have to acknowledge to all of you that I left my first post-college job in less than three months. Humiliating, if you hold yourself to an unreasonable standard. Life-saving, if you find yourself in a job that induces daily meltdowns on the floor of your summer apartment.
Yep. I quit my job after less than three months and started working as a delivery driver for Panera part time. I found a couple of one-time freelance editing jobs that pushed me into the next month. I gained some footing with Tutor.com as a writing and English tutor. I'm not even close to as financially stable as I would like to be yet, but my friends...I am finally emotionally stable. I don't dread waking up in the morning and I don't long for Friday afternoons anymore.
I still lowkey hate my life right now...it's been a blessing to have extended family and Julia's family close by, but I'm still in a new place without my best friends for the first time in three years. That's normal for college grads, I know. But it doesn't change how much I dislike the reality. There are so many experiences I want to tell all of you about. But I'm not quite ready yet. The way I view the world and Jesus and myself has changed so much over the last two years. That's partially why I have been running from talking about it here, I think.
I need more than just a like or a comment on this blog post. I need YOU, my friends. I need every one of you to remind me why I love to share my life experiences with other human beings in the form of writing. Whether we've known each other my entire life or six months, you still have more of an effect on me than you are aware. The words are inside me and they must come out, but it might take a group effort for me to feel okay with that happening.
Honestly I've only consistently listened to one artist lately. Heath McNease is seriously talented and his music (both rap and acoustic) plays in my car when I'm out on deliveries. Specifically the bridge of this song has both carried me and broken me over and over again. "Your grace is complete, supplieth my needs, unspeakable joy surprised me."
Surprised By Joy - Heath McNease
Love you all. Let's get back to a place where this is an outlet for me, hm?
My dear dauaghter...you are loved with an everlasting love by the One who created you in just the right way. He gave you the gift of writing, the gift of editing and all glory goes to Him. Now it's waiting on Jesus who is the author and finisher of our faith. Keep clinging to Him and He will show Himself in ways you would never anticipate. I love you!
ReplyDelete*daughter* Of course, I would put in a typo on a reply to the copy editor! ;)
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