Breaking the Silence

This blog has become the elephant in the room – the room being my head.  I quit writing before the summer holidays, as making the time to do so was at odds with my parenting. I’ve since spent the last few months enjoying the mental peace of focusing on just one thing – the kids – instead of being continuously frustrated at not having enough time to write and parent.

And now I’m out of the other end of the summer.  I have two child-free days (roughly 5.5 hours each) entirely to myself, to do all of the things that I don’t get to do while the kids are around.

Finley has been at school for full days for two weeks now.  Today will be the fourth full day I have to myself, and I still haven’t properly written anything.

I began this blog because I enjoy writing – a forgotten love of mine from my school days which I never considered pursuing as a career, or job, or something that I could do as a regular way of making a living.

I don’t treat writing as a therapy, largely because I don’t divulge much of the stuff that troubles me on here.  Well, I guess it could be argued that it is partly a therapy, because when you’ve got an urge to do something, it is therapeutic to do it.  But for me, it is the action of getting words onto ‘paper’ that is the therapy, as opposed to the content.

That said, content does matter to me.  And I guess this is why I haven’t written anything in a while.  It isn’t for a lack of things to write about.  I mean, I’ve been cooking, crafting, car-booting, day-tripping, socialising, clothes-wearing, volunteering, parenting…  All of the things that are frequently written about in this genre.

But it’s all so vanilla.

Unfortunately, the topics I’m more compelled to write about (my deep, dark thoughts!) aren’t fit for public consumption, which prompts an apathetic shrug of my shoulders, accompanied by an internal ‘meh’.  And the laptop gets to rest for another day.

I woke up at about 03:00 – not unusual for me – but decided to bite the bullet and just write about why I haven’t written anything.  I figured that the action of doing so might just be the jump-start I need to get the momentum going, and just maybe take some steps towards addressing that elephant.

Failing that, you may not hear from me again until Christmas, where my Scrooge persona will inevitably surface, and the urge to berate the materialistic nonsense of it all will overcome me.

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