Avoidance is a Hard Habit to Break

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I am great at avoidance. It’s a family talent, really; we bury our heads in the metaphorical sand and pretend things will magically fix themselves. Even when we really know better.

I never intended to avoid writing, but that has been the effect of an unfortunate combination of stress and being so busy I forget to breathe. You know what I mean because you’ve been there, too.

Now I have some breathing room. I have time and space and the writer-brain is going full-tilt. I’m not binging on video; I’m binging on books for the firs time in far too long. I’ve done some cleaning, I’ve seen some amazing – and some less-than-amazing – theatre, even had the chance to see a touring performance of Cirque du Soleil.

I wrote about 250 words on Sunday and felt it was a lot. The rest of the week, I’ve been lucky to get down 50 words, if anything at all. But Sunday I wrote 250 words. And stopped.

Avoidance.

250 words. That’s a single page, handwritten in my current notebook. What happened to the days of three or five pages? How many years will it take me to get through the draft, at this rate?

It’s daunting, so say the least. It’s tough to remember to be kind to myself, to remember that I’m still ragged, that burnout lingers. It’s ok to take baby steps. I lost the rhythm and it will take time to find it again.

After all, I spent most of Sunday avoiding writing. But I still wrote a whole page. That’s pretty awesome.

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