Approximately two months.
Precisely seven weeks.
Exactly 55 days.
July 22nd, 2013.
That’s the last time I published a post to this blog. Full disclosure – it’s the last time I even wrote anything that had the chance to make it here. It’s a fact that has been persistently and annoyingly hunting me down. For two months, I’ve barricaded my fears and told myself that the well hasn’t run dry – that I’ve just been adjusting to a rapid-pace workload and that busyness has been winning the battle for my time and attention.
The reality is, the well is barren and dusty.
And thus, I’m standing at the cusp of the well today. For the first time, I’ve forced myself to stare into the bottom – to see the soot and the cracks of the floor, and the cobwebs spanning the walls. Where will the water come from? Will this well ever be filled again?
In the core of my being, I sense that this is a defining moment. This is more than a case of writer’s block, and more than some time away from the habit of writing and publishing. This is a drought; a dry season that is forcing me to think about survival and what ifs. It’s a season that is forcing me to ask a question I’ve been avoiding for quite some time:
There are no more excuses to hind behind; I’ve exhausted them all. This is a moment of honesty – a confrontation of fears and doubts, colliding with hope and ideas. For now, here’s what I know:
- This journey has not been wasted. Blogging, for me, has been therapeutic throughout some of the darkest, most trying years of my life. At times, especially early on, my writing bore the bitterness associated with these trials. But somewhere along the way, redemption broke through.
- I am scared. I’ve always believed that I’m a writer – even that I am an above average one – but, now I’m not so sure. It’s true that you are your own worst critic – but, for two months I’ve been thinking that my writing sucks. What if I’m not the kind of writer that I think I am?
- This blog has served it’s shallow purpose of inflating my ego. It’s been about me from the start; seeking attention, hoping for a platform and authority, prostituting itself out to gain some kind of recognition. The parade has ended; and rightfully so.
- I.am.a.writer. It’s not a time to walk away; now is the time to dream. And dream ferociously, without regard for the consequences.
- I am taking my time to re-imagine what I can offer, and rediscover my passion for what I do. This is not a sad time, but a hopeful time. This is a moment of standing at a dry well, refusing to die, and finding the strength to live. This blog will evolve into something new; and I’m beyond excited to think of the possibilities that this evolution brings.
I am telling you this because you’ve become so valuable to me. This community has formed and shaped me in unexpected ways, and I’m humbled by your comments, shares and responses. Something great is waiting at the bottom of this well; there’s only a bit more digging to do.