Cutting to the Bone

Writing. Trying to start over. It’s painful. I’m not sure why. Fear of failure? Fear of success? (I highly doubt that). I move through the house trying to find things to do… and it’s not hard… bills, laundry, lists, lists of lists, organizing, straitening, cleaning (as little as possible of that), email, Facebook, reading, watching TV. What’s up with that by the way? I have never, I mean NEVER watched daytime TV. Okay, being honest here, I did watch General Hospital for a period in the ‘80’s. But with that one exception, never.  I’m sure there are a few worthy things on… but it’s just not me. It’s always seemed a waste of time… time that could be spent on other things… more productive things. So I must be really desperate not to write.

There was a time when truly critical life issues stopped my writing. Family illnesses… plural..and then personal health challenges. During that time I could have written about the experiences, but I was too overwhelmed. Getting through was my only goal.

So now I really have free time. It’s summer break and I’m not working outside the home. We are home from vacation. Everyone is well, knock on wood, spit over both shoulders. So, if I’m honest, I can do it. I’m looking at myself in the proverbial mirror and asking, “if not now, when?” 

That's the question.