Loss of Words

I am a writer, and writing fulfills a deep need inside me and helps me make sense of the things I observe in the world around me. But more especially and more personally, and therefore more importantly from my perspective, putting words to paper (or figurative paper, in the case of this blog) helps me begin to make sense of the swirling spiral of thoughts inside my own head. I don't just enjoy writing. I need to write in order to feel whole and grounded. 

Unfortunately, I don't really seem to be the kind of writer who can just write on demand, which is probably why I don't make the big bucks--or, really, any bucks--with my writing craft. That's okay with me because money has always been a poor motivator for me, and I mainly write for my own sanity and not any other reason. However, as happens periodically, I seem to be at a loss for words lately. There are still words swirling in my head, but I don't seem to be able to catch them, much less organize them into coherent sentences--either in public spaces, like this blog, or even in my private journal. And this both exacerbates the regular anxiety that I experience--because I don't have an outlet for the thoughts and words and feelings and ideas circling around in my mind--and produces a new anxiety of its own--because I feel as if I should be able to form words into thoughts and wrangle thoughts into sentences and string sentences together into something somewhat meaningful. Also, knowing you need to do something that is good for your mental health but feeling like you are not able to do it can feel overwhelming and create anxiety in and of itself. However, since combatting anxiety is important to me, I decided to just write the words I have instead of the words I wish I had. This post doesn't serve any purpose other than capturing a few words and taming them into sentences. If you've come here to be entertained or educated or inspired or encouraged, I'm sorry, but today isn't the day for that. I'm at a loss for words, and today is about plucking a few words from my addled brain and laying them out in order the best I can. 

It's like me recently deciding to start running again after taking months (a year?) off. It isn't pretty or fast or fluid. I have to take a lot of walking breaks to catch my breath. But I am trying. I am doing the best I can with what I have. I'm starting from where I am--not where I used to be, not where I wish I was. I want my body to remember that it knows how to do this--to push through the hard and the awkward and the discomfort to put one foot in front of the other until it gets easier. Running is another way I combat anxiety, so it's important that I do it even when it doesn't look the way I would ideally like it to look. Writing is the same, and I want my heart and mind and hands to remember what it feels like to capture words--to push through the hard and the awkward and the discomfort to put one word in front of the other until it gets easier.