It’s been over six years since I began writing on this blog, and prior to that, I’ve spent my whole life writing. I’ve recently looked back through old childhood journals and realized that writing has always been some sort of therapy for me. It’s kept me creative, helped me process emotions, and has always been there for me, almost like a friend. Telling stories has never been easy for me to do. However, writing my life down in a story form comes naturally.
Sometime last year I lost the writing spark.
I wrote sporadically on here, and even more sporadically in a journal. My brain just couldn’t seem to find the energy to come up with anything to type. My personal life had somehow become unmanageable for me and I didn’t know how to fight back for a while. For years I’ve struggled what I should or shouldn’t share on this website. While it began as a personal blog filled with my daily life and things that I was passionate about, it’s difficult to decide how much personal life to share anymore.
Perhaps part of the reason why I couldn’t find the courage to write is that I have always wanted to keep this space as positive as possible, and for a few months I was having a really hard time staying positive in my personal life, and it because impossible to stay positive on here.
A few weeks ago I found myself sitting in a counselor’s office, trying to figure out what to do. I felt like there was a good connection and I found myself talking about my life for nearly an hour. One hundred dollars later at the conclusion of the session was that she felt that “I was detached from my story.”
Ya, I guess I could see that.
I thought about it more and more over the next week and thought she probably had something there, and perhaps the reason why I felt that I needed to talk to someone was that I was having to deal with a recent tragedy that I couldn’t figure out how to detach myself from.
I then mustered up the courage to go back the next week, only to find myself being let down. There I sat and waited in her waiting room for a half an hour, and after ½ of my session would have already been done – so, I walked out. She never came out to tell me she was running late, never sent an email to reschedule. In fact, it’s been 3 weeks now and she hasn’t contacted me at all. I know that I need to reach out to her to see what happened. I’m just so frustrated still that I’m still deciding if I will or not.
Anyways, the whole counselor ordeal has left me thinking that perhaps I just need to share more of my story.
After all, that’s what’s gotten me this far anyway. Why should there be anything to hide? There’s absolutely nothing wrong with intertwining more of my personal life alongside the recipes and travel adventures….and if a reader or a brand doesn’t like it, who cares?
So, after nearly 3 months – the longest writing break I’ve ever had since creating this little space in April 2012, I’m back. I’m ready. Are you?