On being Stuck

So I said some weeks ago that I would write; made a commitment, to myself as much as to anybody else, that I would put up a blog every Saturday morning.

Isn’t it interesting how quickly a habit can break?

I went away. Even the strongest resolutions are tested in face of holidays with one’s husband. And then…then a story got stuck—a breach birth—while only half way out. It’s still there. I haven’t forgotten it, although it’s a story too big for one sitting, and everything else, it seems, needs to push past it, or lag behind in the queue.

You feel it, when stories are stuck, in the same way a heavy meal weighs in your stomach, or an impacted stool. You don’t feel, though, the smaller stories stuck behind it, or the words in the background that don’t get said, until one day you realise that nothing has been said, the river has been dammed, and that which once was a stream is now barely a trickle, and nobody even noticed.

Where are you stuck today, my friend? What resolution has been given up in your life because something came up, or didn’t come up, or got stuck?

It’s okay. A) You are not alone. And B) I hear you.

Maybe my story isn’t ready to be told. There’s always that I may not ready to tell it, too. I’ve learned, over time, that not only do I need to tell my stories for my health’s sake, but sometimes I need, for my health’s sake, to keep them silent for a while. I’m no use to anybody if I myself have been emptied beyond refilling.

So, as far as blog posts go, this is introspective and vague. But it’s a one-foot-in-front-of-the-other attempt at forward motion, and for that, it’s doing the right thing.

I am writing. That’s what matters. Whether it’s good, or clumsy, or pointless or fruitless or just not the thing I really need to write, I’m unblocking the dam.

Will you join me?