The Blank Page

If dust could collect on a blog, this one would be buried. Instead of writing from my heart, I’ve been writing out of necessity. To-do lists, appointment reminders, projects for others.  Somehow without realizing it, I’ve neglected to carve out time for me to write for my own satisfaction.

And every time I thought about how atrophied  my creative spirit had become, I’d push that thought and its associated feelings into the corner of my mind.  But, yesterday in the middle of the night I woke up and faced the fact that it had been months since I sat down and enjoyed time writing.  As I was thinking it over a funny thought popped in my head, “Yes, but not even Oprah cleans her own house.”

And I knew that was it.  Living overseas had given me a great gift, one that I don’t often encounter Stateside: time to myself.  For better or worse, I’m not expected to do everything, once we get on that plane and head across the world.  But here in my home country, it costs major bucks to have a person around to regularly help clean/watch the kids.  And honestly, when the rare unaccounted for hour or two would come my way, I would usually reward myself with a nap rather than do something more productive, like write.

Perhaps I’ve allowed myself to fully feel the toll this has taken now, because I know that the end of this chapter is near.  The movers have cleared out our stuff, and we are a couple of weeks away from starting a new adventure in Malaysia.  Goodbyes, even when you are ready for them, always leave their mark, but having the opportunity to get back to writing is something that I am really looking forward to.