Writer's Block

Writer's block.

 

I've had it for weeks, and I just can't seem to kick it.

 

I've watched YouTube videos, read at least 25 articles of various kinds of subjects, listened to untold hours of music, all in an effort to find inspiration to write something that would be of interest for you dear reader.

 

At this moment in time I present you with this idea; sometimes in order to remove a mental block, you need to confront the block itself. 

 

I can, for purposes of full transparency, tell you that this summer was a tough one. My husband, who is active duty in the military, was gone for his work and I was home with the kids (yes, this includes my furbabies).

 

Three of the four were perfect representations of their respective life forms. My son was always helpful, picking up on the cleaning where I was faltering, putting away leftovers from dinner, and laundry.

 

My first born has always been intune with my moods, and is aware of my depression and anxiety, so he would check in on me frequently.

 

My two dogs, who are also very attuned to me, were my constant shadows. Tolerant of my feeding them late, or hugging their bodies as I indulged in a good cry...if crying would be called a good thing.

 

Which leads us to my last born, my second child, my only daughter, my princess with a wicked left hook. 

Child #2, as we shall call her from now on, turned two years old at the end of June. I can promise you, the beginning of these toddler years came in like a hungry lion, the lamb nary to be seen.

 

She was challenging from sun up to sun down. I could do nothing to appease her, unless it was watching Toy Story 1 or 4, or Frozen 1 or 2, in addition to feeding her mac n' cheese or hot dogs.

 

Everything else, and I do mean everything, was a battle of varying degrees of ferociousness. There were a few moments of feeling broken, a failure, a bumb. Not to mention that I was dead exhausted by the time my bedtime came to be, and I fell asleep swiftly.

 

Child #2 nap times only allowed for finishing chores that I could not complete while she was awake. Three months of always in motion; feeling creatively underfed and stunted. Emotionally worn down to little more than a hollow shell of my true self. 

 

 I love to write, it's something I look forward to doing. I enjoy being entertaining, and writing about subjects that you, my lovely reader, can connect with and enjoy. I did not like losing my time and ability to be creative.

 

I can, with a decent amount of confidence, guess that a fair few of you have encountered similar situations. I don't care to give a list of suggested ideas on how to creatively 'blossom', I had a hard enough time figuring it out for myself.

 

A quick Google search will give a plethora of ideas on creative stimulation, but in the event that Google fails to inspire, just remember that on occasion it's best to address the block 'face to face'.

 

Giving that block a wicked left hook, just like my little princess.