I can't write because

A life lately post

I can’t write because I don’t know what to write

I can’t write because I’m going to adult sleepovers and taking awkward photos with my friends

I can’t write because I’m riding the roller coaster of joy and grief, opening myself to feel the full weight of the life and friends we left

I can’t write because the urgency of OCD is gone and the blankness, the quiet of peace terrifies me

I can’t write because I need to spend more time making friends

I can’t write because I’m painting and plunging

I hit 70 paintings and poems a couple weeks ago and I love seeing the progression from the muted grays and whites of winter to more vibrant blues and greens of spring.

I can’t write because spring has sprung and the sunshine and trees and flowers are calling

I can’t write because I want to sleep in

I can’t write because I’m at a Little League baseball game, come wind or hail or sun or rain, cheering on my boy and delighting in his goofy grin as he messes around with the other boys in the dugout

I can’t write because I’m sitting vigilant with a dying cat, whispering good boy and scratching his scruffy head

I can’t write because I’m digging a grave for our kitty, Googling how to talk about death with children, going to Lowe’s to buy a shovel

I can’t write because I’m vacuuming seeds off the floor, trailed in on our shoes, spring won’t let us forget her

I can’t write because writing was an escape from guilt and shame and urgency and I no longer need to escape my life

I can’t write because I don’t know what’s next

I can’t write because I don’t know the title of the post

I can’t write here because I’m submitting to new publications

I can’t write because I never want to think about OCD again and I don’t know who I am as a writer without my inner critic and certainty and shame

I can’t write because company is coming and the house needs cleaned

I can’t write because I no longer NEED to write in order to stay sane or grounded

I can’t write because I’m trying to downplay the honor of reading my words at Listen to Your Mother this weekend so I don’t throw up with anticipatory anxiety

I can’t write because I’m exploring photography in an Exhale workshop¹: Curiosity as Creative Practice

A photo I took for a photography workshop on the theme of Glow and Motion

I can’t write because plunging and painting and living feels like enough

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I can’t write because I’m living

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I’m tempted to ask my familiar, predictable question: What does not writing say about me as a writer, an artist?

Turns out—Nothing

It says I’m human, navigating new seasons, figuring it out as I go

I have learned enough to know the words will spring back, unprompted, in time.

I have learned enough to trust the process

To allow myself to

Dig my hands into the dirt

Pluck weeds

Pick up twigs

Refill my coffee

Walk the kids to school

Wipe down the counters

Breathe in the dappled light of spring

Dive headfirst into the water, come out refreshed

Dive headfirst into my life, even if the refreshment lags

I used to have the next six posts swirling swirling hounding pulsing at all times

Now I have quiet

The words whisper where they used to scream

I am learning to listen

I am surrendering to silence

I am trusting I am still Aly, a person who writes

And first, a person who lives.

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I’d love to know how writing/creativity is going for you? Has your creativity energy or goals shifted with the season?

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I say “I can’t write,” but I am quick to discount the daily poems I am writing for my Plunge / Paint / Poem challenge. Can someone please remind me this is “real” writing, too? I’m hoping to share more of those paintings and poems in a new series, “Paintings, Poems, and Ponderings.” Fow now, here are my paintings and poems from the last week:

1. The Curiosity as Creative Practice workshop is not available, but check out the other Exhale workshops if you’re interested in discovering new creative outlets or working on your craft. Highly recommend!