My biggest frustration in right now is in finding my voice again. Where did I go? Who have I become in the past four years? How am I going to get the passion back into this space of mine? I have been so stuck for so long that I really have no idea.
I am known for writing about grief, I am an artist who paints pregnancy and motherhood and if I am honest, that is all I was able to dream about in the early years after my loss. It was my single focus and when I get focused, I am pretty good at drowning out distraction and reaching a goal. But now . . . now, I am wondering if this is all I am allowed to be.
What if I want to dive into something different? What if I want to break through the defining lines and be . . . more.
I am a mother, I am a wife, I am a home schooler, but these are parts of myself that I don’t usually share. Why? Well, because in addition to keeping some things private, I really didn’t think anyone cared all that much about real day to day stuff (any maybe you don’t). But the more I try to sit and find time to write or create around the box I have built myself, the less I seem to be able to accomplish. I am pretty darn sure this is a creative block.
But blocked or not, I have to move forward simply because there is not turning back. So, here is to hope. I hope that I can finally find the strands that I want to pick up and weave with again. Some will be tossed away and others will break, but I am pretty excited about what this tapestry will look like in another four years from now.