Why did I stop? I wanted to write. I wanted to connect. I wanted the self-examination that comes with writing and sharing and producing and reflecting. Why did I stop writing? Why did I stop reflecting? Did “life get in the way”? A cliche, but everyone uses the excuse.
Why did I stop? I want to write, to think, to ask questions and to find the answers that only come with devoting time to finding the correct words. The enriching vocabulary that produces the sounds and perfect tone to a piece of meaningful composition. I needed to think. Writing helped me think.
Aha! That is it! That is why I stopped writing! Writing helped! It focused my thoughts and gave me a purpose when I thought that I had none. My job, my loss, my seemingly directionless professional life came into focus. Maybe my writing appeared in different ways, not the blog that was the haiku and the photographs and the short rants. Maybe the resumes and the cover letters and the emails and the proposals and the new connections.
I never stopped writing. Eureka! The thought hugs me. My guilt about neglecting my blog evaporates. I know now, that I did not stop writing. Writing did connect me, it forced my self-examination. My product was not for consumption for this elite band of blog writers. It was for consumption of a band of professional people who are helping to determine the course of my career. The writing was for me, so that I could find a direction and then return to my writing. My writing one day at a time when I need the reflection and the time to think.
Maybe you never stopped writing. Like me, I wrote tonight until I was clear-headed. Neglecting two different tasks that seemed important when I set up on the dining room table with my laptop and hot tea in hand, flannel pants on, flip-flops rubbing the sort-of-clean wood floor beneath my feet.
When will I start looking for a new perspective instead of asking myself why did I stop?