I have always fantasized about a life focused on writing and have dreamt about the day I sit down and create the movie scripts and fictional novels that swirl in my head. I have daydreamed about my blog… like this one…becoming a space people visit often for my weekly dose of life experience. I have always wanted to create a bigger conversation, like a podcast, being part of passion and creative enthusiasm. So why the fuck am I struggling so hard to make these dreams my reality?
I sat in front of the mirror tonight and these powerful sentences came to me that collectively was stitching together a dialog for a scene from a movie, or a character for a book. I could see it in my mind and I could feel who this woman was, what she ate for breakfast, the grease stain on her shirt from scrubbing the bacon pan….I knew the life experience she was having. As soon as I sat down to get it on paper, the moment was gone. In the five minutes it took me to finish brushing my teeth, use the restroom, and say goodnight to my husband, the entire drive and creative hurricane I was experiencing vanished. This woman slipped through memory and it was as though she never existed. I could not get her back.
There is a lot of frustration I have with myself. I have the perfect situation right now, living in Mexico with a work-from-home job that I can set the hours for, a home designed for creative exploration, and time. Lots of extra time! I could be writing and chasing this dream. So why am I constantly deciding I am too tired and putting this off… still! When I was working full-time in the states and feeling bogged down, wanting to break-free from the 9-5, I swore that if I had “this and that,” it would work. And here I am… with “this and that,” and it is still not working!
“This and that” have changed nothing!
Where is my passion? Where is my drive? This mundane existence has been hitting me hard the past two years and I am at a breaking point. I can’t continue down a path where I long for the weekends and dread when they come to a close. And when I look back at my weekend and what I accomplished.. it is nothing more than spending time running as far from my life as possible.
I want to feel life each day. I want to be enthused and ecstatic about what I am doing every morning I wake. I want curiosity to fill my soul and to feel a fever of creative madness. I am longing for a passion that fuels me and becomes my obsession… the thing I can’t wait to get to each day. Right now I have none of it. Where and how do I find it? I am desperate to get away from this lack of existence at age 35. I have so much more.
I do not know when I lost my drive and when I stopped feeling alive. It happen at some point unexpectedly, and I have welcomed this state of being for far too long. The guest of despair and boredom is no longer welcome, but like a pest, I have to figure out how to trap and dispose of it.
I do not know the first thing about trapping a rodent, but like anything, time and research will hopefully unveil the answer. More to come.
Bright White Canvas 