I have a confession to make.

Since writing about my “relationship” with my father (which you can read here), I’ve had a writer’s block.

I made this blog to be creative, practice writing, and unpack my baggage, in the hopes it would heal me, and perhaps offer help to others.

Since doing that post, I am not sure what to write. I still have baggage; of course I do, but that was such a big part of me for so many years, that now it’s out there, I feel…..not empty, but not myself. Half-molted. 

I know the inspiration will come again. Creativity is a muscle, as they say.

Maybe I’m (probably I’m) overthinking. I could treat this like a truly personal blog, and just talk about whatever nonsense pops into my head. Who says I need categories, faithfully posted on a set schedule?

No one, that’s who. I’m the one footing the bill for my hosting fees. I’m beholden to no one. 

Part of me feels that’s arrogant, though. If I was some sort of public figure, then some people would read any inane thoughts I post, but the average person is rarely that interesting, no matter what they think. 

Including me.

Still, I have to give myself some credit. I can see how my writing has improved since the beginning of this year.

It’s something.

And it’s enough to keep me moving forward.

Note: The title of this entry is the result of autocorrect, and I decided to just go with it.


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