Over the past year, I have been thinking about writers block quite a bit. It is an annoying background noise and distraction - the recurring question why it is so hard to write. When I started this blog in 2005, it was a receptacle for grief that found ways to express itself in ways I could not have imagined.
The words poured discordant and chaotic for several years until the pain had dissolved. Then was the time of being able to see beauty in ordinary things. Through the different phases of writing was the common theme of needing to share within the constraints of what my innate personality allowed. J was a baby back then, it felt ok to write about her. Have my blog be the placeholder for memories - little events from her life that I may otherwise forget. I am so glad that I did that - this is now my place to revisit J's babyhood. The time-stamp on the post often bring back the memories in full color.
In the last few years a lot of that has changed. My life is no longer autonomous as it once used to be - I must consider DB as our lives are now interwoven. And J is a young person with a right to her own memories and privacy. There is a lot I would love to write about but cannot to respect what is now her personal space. The triggers that once prompted me to write no longer exist. It did not help that I write about my technology and business perspectives on a professional platform. There was not much oxygen left for this to go on. Yet, in the back of my head was this pesky voice that will not stop nagging me to find a way. I don't know that I have it yet but I am working on it.