When I want to, I love to write. When I want to, I can write a lot. When I want to, I can write beautifully. When I want to.
I need to write. I need to write a lot.
When I want to write I write a lot.
When I want to, I love a lot. When I want to, I love to love. When I want to, I love.
Sometimes we need to love when we don't want to.
How do we love, how do we give, how do we care, how do we write when we don't want to?
How do we write, how do we care, how do we share when we don't want?
How do we learn, how do we share, how to we write when we don't want?
How do we learn to want what we don't want? To want when we don't want?
How do we learn to share when we don't want? How do we learn to give? How do we learn to care?
I am sitting in the library. Day two of sitting in the library and pretending to write my thesis. How long will it take me to write if I manage to write about one measly paragraph a day? 100 years? I need to write! I don't want to write! I don't want to concentrate! I don't want to focus!
I would rather look for a job. I would rather take on short term projects with tight deadlines. I would rather check Facebook. I would rather check whats app. I would rather sit in my car waiting for parking. I would rather go out with my friends. I would rather pick up my children. I would rather do anything that is not sitting and writing my thesis. Oh my! Goodbye, I am going now to write what I don't want!
Thursday, October 27, 2016
Thursday, March 31, 2016
Hiccups
On my path there are hiccups. Little bumps that I never imagined I would need to deal with.
Little bumps, big bumps.
Learning to deal with people who are impossible to deal with, and learning to say good bye when there is no longer anyone worth dealing with.
Learning to love. To really love. To give. To try and want a little less. Learning that I did not know what love was even when I thought I could not love any more.
Learning to be a parent. Loving. Relearning to be a parent. And learning again.
Each child teaches me all over again what parenting means. What love means.
Each child comes with their own new hurdles that I need to learn to jump over.
ASD, ADD, PhD, everything and everyone gets a title nowadays.
Do we know to give the child what they need? More than we received? More than our parents received?
On my path there are hiccups. Little bumps that I never imagined I would need to deal with.
These bumps are what make my path.
They give meaning.
They give life.
Little bumps, big bumps.
Learning to deal with people who are impossible to deal with, and learning to say good bye when there is no longer anyone worth dealing with.
Learning to love. To really love. To give. To try and want a little less. Learning that I did not know what love was even when I thought I could not love any more.
Learning to be a parent. Loving. Relearning to be a parent. And learning again.
Each child teaches me all over again what parenting means. What love means.
Each child comes with their own new hurdles that I need to learn to jump over.
ASD, ADD, PhD, everything and everyone gets a title nowadays.
Do we know to give the child what they need? More than we received? More than our parents received?
On my path there are hiccups. Little bumps that I never imagined I would need to deal with.
These bumps are what make my path.
They give meaning.
They give life.
Tuesday, March 29, 2016
Return to myself
Life is busy.
Life is always busy, even when there is not much going on.
We are dealing with developmental issues with a child, planning a family vacation, building a house, trying to finish up my degree and figure out what my next stage in occupation is, parenting, cleaning, pretending to pack up our apartment, watching silly TV shows, cooking, listening to podcasts, folding laundry, washing dishes, spending time with my spouse.
Life is busy. Life is good.
Busy should never be an excuse not to write.
Writing to me is the best kind of therapy. It always has been. I enjoy writing. The fact that I enjoy writing is somehow a new revelation to me. How have I not noticed this before? How have I not pushed myself to write more before now?
Life is busy. I am happy. I want to express that happiness with all the stresses that come along with it. In my path to wholeness I need to return to myself. I need to return to my writing. Writing for no purpose other than to express myself.
In my path to wholeness here I am returning to myself.
Life is always busy, even when there is not much going on.
We are dealing with developmental issues with a child, planning a family vacation, building a house, trying to finish up my degree and figure out what my next stage in occupation is, parenting, cleaning, pretending to pack up our apartment, watching silly TV shows, cooking, listening to podcasts, folding laundry, washing dishes, spending time with my spouse.
Life is busy. Life is good.
Busy should never be an excuse not to write.
Writing to me is the best kind of therapy. It always has been. I enjoy writing. The fact that I enjoy writing is somehow a new revelation to me. How have I not noticed this before? How have I not pushed myself to write more before now?
Life is busy. I am happy. I want to express that happiness with all the stresses that come along with it. In my path to wholeness I need to return to myself. I need to return to my writing. Writing for no purpose other than to express myself.
In my path to wholeness here I am returning to myself.
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