My life has been kinda out of control the past two years. Between no longer talking to my mother [which is way too depressing and stressing to get into] then my sons accident [it was the worst thing that has ever happened and I pray to be the worst thing that ever happens to him] I haven't had much time for me. My time to myself was very important, not only for my sanity but also for my future as a published writer. If I ever want to be a published writer then I have to write.
That hasn't been the case the past two years. Give or take a month or two.
I have tried so many times to get myself in order again. Writing a little here and there. Reading a few books. Talking to old friends and reuniting with my wonderful and very needed muse/great friend. But no matter how hard I tried, I just couldn't get myself where I needed to be. The best way to explain it is, I can't seem to collect myself. Writing used to be fun and easy to me. Now it seems like it may be a job or a chore more then my only happiness within myself.
Depressing as that is I can't give up on myself. I have to fight through this horrible feeling that defeated me. I need to push past feeling sorry for myself and stand more taller [not literally.. I'm already 5'9"] and feel more secure within myself again.I don't want to lose the one thing I have always loved. I don't want to no longer find words interesting. That's one of my biggest fears. But how can one lose interest in the only thing they ever felt like themselves around? I guess anything is possible.