I’m trying to figure out why I stopped writing here.
At first, it was because I had what I can only describe as a physical and emotional breakdown. I developed severe back pain, as well as severe depression and anxiety, and it was just too raw to share. I had back surgery and slowly got better, but not in the neat and orderly way I might have hoped. For at least eight months, I was pretty much a disaster.
When that was all over, I felt like I couldn’t write anything else until I had written something about the profound experience I had just been through. But I didn’t know how to write about it. I started so many posts that were never finished. Eventually, I came to a place where I just wanted to move forward, to let that painful chapter fade into the half-remembered past.
I was never sure what I felt comfortable sharing here, with an audience that includes people from every aspect and period of my life. Maybe I also psyched myself out, by feeling like every post had to be a deep essay that revealed something about the meaning of life.
Now that it has been so long, this site feels old and irrelevant. I no longer like this bland beige color scheme. I’m no longer recovering from a newspaper layoff. I have a regular job and am no longer trying to sell myself as a freelance writer. But the fundamental reason why I created this website remains: I am still a writer in need of an outlet.
I feel like a fraud calling myself a “writer,” because I haven’t been writing much of anything since I last wrote here. On a rational level, I was OK with that. I’ve been happy with my life and my job. I’ve had plenty to fill my time without writing pointless personal essays for an unspecified audience. Yet, there is a voice in me that keeps calling out, “You need to write something!” I keep yelling back, “OK! What should I write about?” I’ve been waiting months now for the answer, but it just keeps shouting back, with increasing intensity, “WRITE SOMETHING!!!”
I’ve resisted the idea of sharing my writing publicly again, because it feels presumptuous to put it out there in front of everyone and ask them to read it. It’s kind of embarrassing. What if you all find my thoughts trite and ridiculous? What if you judge me? What if you already have, and now I’m just giving you more ammunition? I’ve created a bunch of files in Google Docs, and tried writing there, for my eyes only. But I can’t write like that, all alone, without the faith it takes to put words into the world. So here I am. I am posting this not because I believe you need to read my words, but because I need to write them.
I don’t know what I will post here. Maybe some book reviews. Maybe some random observations. I’m still waiting for that stupid voice to answer my question. For now, I just want to open up this space, clear out the cobwebs, open the blinds and let the sunlight in.