like a phoenix
Hey there; it’s been a while. One could say that it’s been a hell of a time since I last wrote something here. Just to play catch up for a minute, in the past six months, I got on Lexapro, went to DC, went to New York City, got in touch with my Judaism again, came home to an offer luring me back into the vocation of restaurant management that I had previously sworn off, got off Lexapro, lost touch with most of my friends, got on Wellbutrin, started talking to my mom again, went through an immense personal crisis regarding firing ghosting my therapist and struggling to navigate my personality in the light of the medication changes, got transferred to my old stomping grounds (as a manager this time), learned a lot about personal finance the hard way, went to Boston, went to Maine, and-most importantly-got engaged. In the midst of all of this, I lost all motivation to write. Watching my website collect dust has been tough on me since I worked really hard to establish writing regularly into my routine only to see it fall to the wayside for the umpteenth time in my life. But now, for reasons that I still don’t fully grasp, I’m finishing an exhausting Mother’s Day by sitting on my couch and writing on a whim.
In a previous post, I wrote this:
“Truth be told, I’ve actually written three articles to damn-near completion since my last post, but the chatter in my head has repeatedly shut down my efforts to take them to the point of posting until I just gave up at some point. Unfortunately, I’m really no stranger to this. Most of y’all probably don’t know this (and I’m cringing a little at the thought of there being anyone who does), but this is actually my fifth attempt at a consistent blog. I’ve tried to do this sort of thing many times and, without fail, life always gets in the way of my writing and creativity so I end up throwing in the towel time and time again. It wasn’t until this week that, when reflecting upon the disappointment I’ve been feeling about leaving my beloved blog to see no new activity, that it ever occurred to me that “life getting in the way” was likely not my primary issue in keeping any sort of consistency with this hobby of mine.”
If you haven’t yet ascertained that I maintain a less-than-subtle proclivity to start and stop writing in the pockets created by the ebbs and flows of my life by now, this post may not be for you. I wrote that exactly eight months ago, but it feels like I could have written it today. Though the sentiment remains the same, I find myself at odds with what was said if only for a lack of nuance (more accurately a refusal to dig deeper). I’ve now psychoanalyzed myself with sufficient thoroughness and with enough assistance from antidepressants to identify a more prevalent issue with my desire to make my voice heard through this medium:
I have to stop using writing as a crutch to lean on when I’m feeling insecure about my life in some capacity. I could point to several instances in which I began writing because I wanted to create a path for myself leading out of restaurant work or to receive the attention and validation of strangers that I so desperately desired because of an insecurity relating to a relationship or feeling of listlessness to reinforce this realization, but none of that would prove my clarity of mind on this subject the way that the last six months have. If there was ever a time in my life when the cacophony of instability relating to my career, my finances, my relationship, and my life as a whole would translate to my fingers clattering against a keyboard, this would have been it.
But instead, I made myself stop. I could feel myself struggling to articulate myself. I could feel myself grasping a little bit harder for something to fill my self-imposed weekly quota with. I could feel myself trying to be something I wasn’t and, instead of taking an ax to my budding body of work, I let it rest. Today happens to be the day when I wipe the crust out of my eyes and rise from hibernation, but with a vastly different intention this time around and I’m not planning on losing sight of who I’m doing this for.
So what’s next for the blog?
Whatever I want.
