Starting From Scratch… Again

I think every writer comes to a point in life when he or she begins to wonder, “what am I writing about, and whom am I really writing for?” You begin to doubt yourself and the value of your words. You wonder if they hold any merit, if anyone is really reading them, enjoying them, learning from them. I know I’ve come to that place several times and it’s almost made me stop writing altogether. Almost.

I’d lay awake at night, mentally and emotionally exhausted from having sapped every ounce of inspiration out of myself for a writing assignment that I’d have nothing left for me. No rousing words to utter from my lips. No stimulating sentences to prance across my page. Nothing. Then, in the wee hours of the morning, I’d awake with random words and phrases racing through my mind. They would poke and prod at my brain shouting, “Wake up! Write me down! This stuff is good!” but sadly, I would be too tired to act. Shushing my own thoughts, I would just roll over and try to get back to sleep in order to be well rested for the next day of soul sucking work.

It wasn’t that I was beginning to hate writing for others; I was only beginning to resent it. I was angry. It was taking time away from me; the me who had dreams; the me who had so much to share with the world from deep inside my inner core; the me whose spirit wanted to soar, to dance, to share, untethered; the me who wanted to fly.

And so one day, I decided to just let myself do that. I made a promise to myself that I would sacrifice my time for a while and spend it writing for others, so that I could afford to take a break and reconnect with myself, to rekindle that inspiration, to find my words again. I promised myself a vacation, where I would focus entirely on myself. No worrying about finding work assignments. No stressing over deadlines. Just me, a pen, some paper, and the world.

In a month’s time, I will own up to that promise. I will revisit the passion I’ve had since I was a child and will allow myself to fully embrace it. Rather than throwing away the random scraps of paper that are cluttering my nightstand, I will throw caution to the wind. I will enjoy every single second of time, every moment of wonder, every moving experience. I will start from scratch, again and be grateful for this gift I have given myself.