Words, writing communication–they’re all such integral parts of me. From stories, to poetry, to communicatively resolving conflict, I thrive on being able to express myself.
I still want to.
Yet the words seem all dried up.
This isn’t the Depression I’ve felt before, where I don’t want to do anything, not even the stuff that makes me me. Now, I want to write so desperately. I can feel the longing, the anxiety, because I know I don’t have this important part of me right now. But I also know forcing it isn’t going to make me feel better.
So I’m not really sure how to proceed beside to coast through and wait. I will keep blogging, I’m sure. It’s just that for about a month, my words have all gone. It doesn’t feel like Writer’s Block. There doesn’t seem to be one mental or life block in my way keeping me from proceeding as a writer. It feels like laryngitis. The words are gone now, and I want to use them, but they’ll come back later.
So I’ll let some of my pictures speak for me instead. I went to the Chateau de Maintenon, which quickly became one of my favorite places in the world. I went to a farm. I went to a concert. I ate yummy food. I made new friends. Life has been busy but full.
Also, the computer ate my first draft of this, so I hope this survives.
Profound thing I learned this week: I will never feel like a Good Enough Grown Up.
French word of the week: avoir un petit creux: To be peckish.
Please pray for: Words, faith, endurance, eyes Heavenward.
If you have any questions for me, any requests, want a postcard, or want to keep in touch, I’m available at all these places: