Man, I don't feel like writing tonight. To be more precise, I want to write, but I can't seem to move myself in the direction of anything I'd like to work on. I spoke to my dear friend (and cherished accountability partner) earlier today about writing an essay. However, when it came to channeling the many thoughts and ideas raging about my cranium, I resisted. Me. After all, that's who lives in me, right? I'm even stubborn against myself, and when I push against that inner resistance, what erupts is anger, anxiety, and confusion.
Why, oh why, must I be such a multi-faceted, multi-dimensional complicated enigma of a device?? Oh, how I wish to be a simple machine of smooth movements and dependability. How can I offer anything to anyone when I can't even depend on myself?
This is turning into a self-indulging, self-pitying diatribe. It's not what I intended or even desire. This is mainly meant to be an exercise of my daily writing and/or journaling to keep those juices flowing.
I have a physical notebook in which I write out whatever, and I did flesh out some thoughts about generational traumas passed down from mothers to daughters, but when I took it out to type it up and work on it, I just didn't....feel like it?
Writing makes me feel amazing when it clicks, and when it doesn't, it's more than frustrating. It can best be described as the emotional equivalent of the sound of unpleasant metallic grinding. I guess that makes sense, since grinding is forced, and clicking is more natural.
There aren't many things that come naturally to me, and it seems that most things are a struggle. But I have come to be thankful for the struggles. After all, it's struggle that builds strength, not ease. Once again, I can only hope - and this hope comes like light through a pinhole - that it means I will have meaning and use. I don't seek it for glory. I seek it for the same basic reason that drives me in everything I do and want; to be essential and to not be a bother. "To not be a bother" is more important; to be essential is more a wish than a priority - part of the fantasy of having meaning.
This is starting to sound self-indulgent again.
I digress.
This is yet another throw-away blog entry; meant only to grease the wheels of the machine instead of feeding it. It's all part of the journey.
"Yes, Lord, yes," is something I say to myself when I'm feeling a little frustrated but I want to thank Jesus for the challenge and accept the challenge - for the exercise to build strength. It also mostly quells whatever flutters of anxiety threaten to shake me.
Yes, Lord, yes. I accept this.
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