One of the definitions of the word static is lacking in movement, action, or change, especially in a way viewed as undesirable or uninteresting. That is what my writing has become, mostly because I have all but forgotten it. Blogging, creative writing, magazine articles. All of it as slipped my mind and instead I am left with the status quo of my day to day.
My daughter will begin Kindergarten soon and I make jokes about all the time I will suddenly have but I know that it will not matter. I have the same amount of time as anyone else and yet I feel like I am at a standstill while others are moving forward, pushing forward, still moving. They have never lost themselves. And somehow I have. I have come to this place where I do not know which direction to go. The things I use to love I no longer do. One would think that I would have a passion for motherhood, that maybe I do that extremely well. But the truth is I do not. Most days I feel like I have done a marginal job of it and survived another day. My daughter asked me why I chose to be a mother and not something else...and I had no answer for her. How do you explain to a 5 year old that in the beginning you did not want the motherhood life? I didn't choose motherhood, motherhood chose me. When she says that she will be all these things and I mother, I smile and tell her she can do it. But why didn't i? Fear? Laziness? Maybe both?
I have every excuse as to why I do not write...and yet I can feel the pull and my muse talking to me, begging me to write just one paragraph. And I promise her that I will...that very night I will sit down and write. And the night comes and all I want is to stare into the nothingness that is Facebook and do nothing. I remember my husband giving me my laptop so I could write. And now the laptop is obsolete by Apple standards and I haven't written. Why can I not be disciplined enough to do this?
How does one push past the static?
