I’ve spent weeks trying to figure out what to write, when to write it and just what kinds of things I wanted to say now and in the future. I thought so much that I talked myself out of all of it.
At first, I was going to write about my amazement that I was able to get seedlings started for a garden. If even a fraction of the starters survive, there’s going to be so many tomatoes, peppers and spaghetti squash that I’m not going to have any ideas what to do with them. We also want to plant onions, radishes, some lettuces and do what we can to eventually grow some indoors so that we can have fresh produce year round. That’s the end goal anyway.
Once I abandoned that plan, I thought some more about what kinds of things I wanted to write about. I drew a blank. My friend has actively pointed out almost daily that I haven’t written. He uses my writing as a better insight into my mind and where I’m at since I don’t express myself to others in any real way. I still can’t hold a job, which is distressing. I can’t seem to get into doctors until my insurance mess clears up, and while I’m on an upswing with my moods- it doesn’t take much to actually get me down. But I’ve been able to pull myself back out of it quicker. I know a lot of the things I’m taking issue with are on me, and say more about me than it does others. I can live with that, even if it means I get told I’m too sensitive and I should know by now that someone is joking.
I wanted to write about some of the things I’m trying to do to express myself more, whether its crafts or speaking out about things I want to do or try. But most of the time those things fall flat before I start them, or fall on deaf ears.
There are so many more things I wanted to write about, but then I couldn’t. I couldn’t find the words or when I did find the words they were haphazard and callous, or angry and bitter, or worst yet, apathetic. I didn’t care if I wrote, I didn’t even sign in for the better part of a month. For something that I wanted to do, I couldn’t make myself do it. That’s when I knew I had to take a step back, reevaluate my perspectives and expectations.
So I say again I’m going to try to do better, but not stress myself out or work myself up about if I write. I want to find more ways to live in the moment instead, even if it means not writing down what happened when. I want to post some of my cooking trials, and some of my sewing- if and when I get around to doing them some more. At least Spring is here, and there’s a sense of renewal all around. I’ll take that in stride and know there’s something else new around the corner to explore.