Running on Empty

Just two weeks in, and I’m losing motivation.  I will write – I made a committment.  But it’s sometimes difficult.  So much has changed since I tried this before.  There was a time when I had a complete life.  Not perfect, but complete.  My family made me happy.  My job challenged me.  Then, over many months, everything changed.  Looking back it feels like it happened in an instant.  Like the world opened up and swallowed my life, regurgitating the remains that I’m left with now.  There are still so many unanswered questions.  So many open wounds. 

I used to write easily.  Words would flow from my heart faster than my fingers could type.  I didn’t stop to think or assess, I would just write.  When it got too painful for me to dance anymore, writing became my dance.  I would get lost in the words, the way I used to free myself with music in the studio.  My writing would flow and dip and rise, like a moving piece of music.  Now the words feel static. Now the words are painful, too. 

I used to choreograph dances in my head all the time.  I really mean ALL THE TIME.  I would hear a song on the radio that I connected with, and by the third time I would have a whole dance ready for it.  The modern music sung by our music ministry at church would spawn visions of elaborate productions by the youth. I never tried to think of dances, it was just always there, part of who I was.  I still do this, but now it’s in broken bits.  My visions carry a few moves that match a few notes, leaving the rest of the story untold.

I’m not moving past the hurt and anger.  I’m not letting go of the resentment and the questioning.  I know I need to do this, but somehow it’s not happening for me.  Maybe I’m not ready.  Maybe I’m not trying.  Maybe it’s out of fear, or laziness, or loneliness.  I don’t know.  I was hoping this blog project would bring back the inspiration I once had.  What I do know is that I only feel half of what I ever did before.  Most of the time I’m just running on empty.

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