Enough of That

Did I misplace my groove somewhere amid all the birthday celebrations?

I stretch out on my bed, legs crossed, sinking into the comforter. My back and feet ache, a reminder of the [writing] day I let slip away, busy with everything except this empowering challenge. My mind sets itself on Do Not Disturb even before the clock marked 8:00 PM.

Big themes hover just out of reach, unwritten, waiting. I had time. I redirected it. Now, all I can do is lie here, too tired to flirt with any of those ideas. Also, the dilemma: Do I just write two lines and invest the rest of my evening energy reading other people’s posts? I want to, but I also breathe them in so much more when I’m rested.

I can’t seem to keep the appointments I make with inspiration early enough in the day to avoid reaching this point.

Another evening of tired eyes, sore body, numb thoughts.

Another evening of feeling good enough about “showing up” but regretting the slices I didn’t write and the missed “dates” with fellow writers I’ve come to appreciate so much in this community.

Am I really going to post another “Too tired to write something better, but I’ll try tomorrow” slice? Ugh! This is starting to sound like the “tortured artist” mindset that my dear Liz Gilbert writes about.

Enough of that!