my dad likes to call the stretches of time where you’re not creating “dreaming periods” and says that they’re meant to allow you to absorb all of the beauty, life, and inspiration from the things around you so that when you’re able to create again, you will have fanned your spark back into a flame. sometimes its hard to see those moments as anything but stagnation, but he always says that they’re natural and healthy and needed—things that should be embraced rather than feared.
And this is so true…
The first two thirds of 2020 have been very bad for me and my mental health.
I’m actually glad I forced myself to stop writing (even if writing always helped me to stay out of depression and pinpoint goals to reach).
And now it’s more than a year, I lived many days without ‘creating’, I tried to diverge from my INTJ hermitism just a little bit and the result is I’m happy.
I’m not different, I’m still a grouch and a control freak and a bitch sometimes.
But I’m happy with M, I feel like I’m breathing again and the air is sweet and warm.
It’s comforting.
The world looks like a better place I could fit in.
I think I’m ready and I want to write again but my time is non existent even if my brain is already shifting through ideas and flexing my finger muscles on a keyboard.
Hermes shall return. 😉