Don’t you just hate when you make a public commitment to do something and then when the time comes to do it, you realize you really don’t want to? Well, I do want to; but today, I just keep thinking I have nothing to say, no words to put on paper, nothing that will make any difference to anyone.
I know that as much as I feel that way today, when midnight passes and I haven’t been to the page to write anything, I’ll feel terribly disappointed in myself. I’ll have let myself down. And I’ve decided that I’m not doing that this year. No matter what happens, November will be a month of writing my way home.
What does that mean? I’m trying to sort through some things and figure out what I want in my life. I’m trying to figure out who and what really matters to me. I want to know if there’s something I’m missing and how to go after it and make it happen.
I’m back to rewriting the narrative of my life. Back to examining all the things people have told me over the years, figuring out what is true, and what isn’t. It feels like starting over. I won’t be 50 until May of next year, but this feels like a preparation for that day. Julia Cameron wrote a book that I STILL haven’t read and probably need to which is called It’s Never Too Late to Begin Again: Discovering Creativity and Meaning at Midlife and Beyond.
I just read a text message from a life coach who’s been sending out encouraging texts for a long time. Her suggestion is to “Tell yourself good ‘stories’ like ‘You are stronger and wiser than you think.'”
So I’m going to do some of that. Tell myself good stories. Was she reading over my shoulder as I was typing? That was kind of weird!