Writing With My Eyes Closed

Sometimes, when I have the urge to write but no idea what to write about, I'll close my eyes and let my fingers fly across the keyboard, typing up whatever comes to mind.

Sometimes the result is coherent, sometimes not. I'm doing it right now, as a matter of fact.

There's something inherently liberating about not paying attention to what you're writing. the words seem to flow from a completely different place.

This is a rough time in my life right now, and that's a truly difficult thing to admit - because it's not anyone's fault but my own that I'm struggling. I'm absolutely drowning in doubt, with blocks of failure strapped to my feet. I want to get back into steady blogging - I really miss it - but will my new website be as successful as my first?

I want to do more creative endeavors, more painting, more writing, more exploring, but I don't really have the time. Well, I do have the time - alone, that is. I typically sit in my bed, as I am now, with some mindless show on TV that I'm not even aware of, reading through motivational articles chiding me for doing exactly what I'm doing.

But reading about motivation and success will automatically boost me to success, right? RIGHT?!

It doesn't. The first few times you start reading self-help literature, it's a remarkable experience. An internal fire is ignited and it positively blazes, and it's a wonderful feeling. You want more so you read more and more. Slowly, you start coming across the same information over and over again, but you still want that fire, so you keep reading. Days turn into weeks turn into months, and though you've got an impressive library of success knowledge stored in the file cabinets of your brain, you don't actually use them. The fire fades, and you're back at square one.

I am currently in that trap, only just recently realizing that it is indeed a trap.

Getting out could be as easy as simply putting some of those tips into effect. Hey, I do pretty good. My problem is sustenance.

My exercise program, this blog, cleaning up my financial situation - these are all promises I made to myself to work on. And one by one, each falls apart for one reason or another. I have other mouths to feed. I am too tired to exercise. I don't have money for savings but I had the money to upgrade my phone. I got it at a steal, but still...

Writing is the one I might feel the worst about, because writing is a part of my life force - and I'm seemingly content to keep it hidden away from the public.

It's terrifying pressing "Publish", as most honest bloggers will say. There's always someone waiting in the folds to critique your writing, or complain about your subject matter. I've had family, friends, and significant others alike approach me about my content, telling me I needed to change it. That they're offended by something I've posted.

I didn't have the backbone back then to say "so what?". And quite frankly, I can't say I have the backbone to say it now, but I'm starting to realize that I'm withering into a pool of nothingness without it.

This blog, I wanted to make specifically into a review site. But I don't just write reviews, and as a matter of fact, I don't like the pressure to focus on it. I didn't want this to be a personal journal, but hey, my old one started that way and I literally have no idea who may have been reading. (this was way before analytics came standard with a blog, since nowadays everyone is making one)

I'm no expert on things. Everyone tells me to pick one idea and run with it. I don't work that way. I'm scattered - I admit it. My painful surface organization hides a tortured brain that can't seem to stay with any one idea long enough to see it through...because not long before I've finished one idea, another comes.

It's hard keeping up with it all - writing about the things that matter to me without fear that an old teacher will berate me for my foul language, or share an unpopular opinion without fear that internet warriors will come and shoot me down. Things are worse now.

But, I miss the camaraderie. I miss meeting new people and connecting all over the world. I miss getting all my ideas, no matter how harebrained or wacky, out into the open. To be honest, I've found people often agree with even the most depraved ideas that spring out of my head.

This is long - I don't care. It isn't a review, and I don't care about that either. I have painted myself into a tiny box, and like any claustrophobic person it's time to break down the walls of that box and get back to the time when I didn't give a flying rat's ass WHAT people would have to say to me. When I could say all the uncomfortable things that needed to be said without fear. Those are the people I admire the most - I need to start practicing what I preach and believe it.

I wrote this blog post with my eyes closed. These words have come from my heart. I don't know where this is going to go. That's the beauty of it, I think - the freedom of surging forward without worry of where "forward" is.

Will you join me on this journey?