Ideas don’t seem to flow like they used to. Instead, I seem to have perpetual writer’s block. When ideas do come, it is usually at 3 in the morning when I am too tired to write them down, much less formulate whole pieces of writing around them. I try and motivate myself by looking up writing prompts, but most leave me uninspired. Writing about my favorite way to spend a lazy day seems obvious (Hallmark’s Countdown to Christmas top my list of things to do) and hardly worth a discussion.
What I need are topics that inspire and challenge me. Topics that make me examine past and present events. Topics that lend themselves to vivid details. I need to feel as if I am invested in my writing; that I care about the topics, events, and people that pop up. I want to feel something when I write, preferably passion. I also want my audience to feel something when they read my writing whether it be joy or anger, laughter or sadness. I need my writing to make me feel like I have accomplished something.
I have spent most of the last 12 years raising my children. As rewarding and challenging as it has been, I rarely see glimpses of my former self, that individual who was driven, adventurous, and thirsty for knowledge. Depression and anxiety, since the birth of my first child have taken a toll on my spirit, motivation, and clarity. I struggle less since going on medication, but most days I feel like a shell of my former self. Writing is, in many respects, a way to connect to that driven, adventurous, and thirsty individual I used to be. There are many things wrong with this picture, but the struggle is my reality.
The solution, or more accurately, the challenge lies in my ability to find time for myself, to find ways to nurture my intellect and spirit, and to nurture my writing and myself in the same way I nurture my children.
