Why No Writey, Mami?

I haven’t wanted to write lately. <—– (I’m so pissed that I wrote that statement because I’m starting to feel better as I write. Why do I ever stop?)

Anyhoo, I have not wanted to write. Well, it’s not so much that I did not want to write as it is that I partly wonder if anyone even reads this blog and find it of value. Then I think “who cares, you’re doing this for you”. I get that, but I would also like to know that someone understands or is helped by what I write. Hmmm. More on that later.

I also get frustrated when I have a gazillion thoughts coming through the cerebral pipeline at once. I get overwhelmed. Paralysis of Analysis, maybe? Frustrated that my fingers cannot compartmentalize my multi-directioned thoughts, I ignore the computer and when I return, it’s six days have passed.

I love writing. I find that my written words are many times far better than my spoken words. That blasted anxiety! I love the way I phrase my sentences. I’ve always said that I was a writer before anything. Today I remember why and I write, er type.

About thebipolarchick

Well it’s easier to tell you what I’ve been called – a “troubled genius”. I’d agree if I wasn’t so averse to being called “troubled”. I’m super-sensitive, over-analytical, hyper-perfectionistic, ultra obsessive, and a whole bunch of other hyphenated words that make one amazing chick. Now, all I need to do is remember what I just wrote when I’m feeling like mush.

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