More Joy.

I love writing. 

I love it more and more all the time.  I wake up and think about it.  I think about it through the day.  I think about it at night.  I sit at work and feel grateful for my flexible job and the significant lowering of stress since my Employment Consultant days and yet, I am so restless.  It's getting worse. 

I want to write a book, and yet I sit here to write a simple blog post and all words have flown from my mind.  I have never experienced writer's block like this before, where it seems to physically hurt to write.  I have been through so much in the last few months, my brain feels like a big swamp full of really-hard-to-work-through mud. 

But, I have to try. 

I have to try to work through it all.  I am seeing my psychiatrist and my psychologist regularly, but I need to be doing more work on my own as well.  I can't seem to journal, I sit at the piano and freeze, I sit here and have typed more words now than I have been able to in weeks. 

Loss and grief have taught me more in the last three months than I thought was physically possible for a lifetime.  Humans can withstand the most horrific emotional pain.  They can watch their loved ones surviving through that same horrific pain, and still, life... goes... on.  How does it just, go on?? I think that is the thing that my brain struggles to come to terms with the most.  It also makes the least sense, like... of COURSE life goes on.  People die every day.  We aren't the first family to lose someone in a tragic way.  There are SO many tragic things happening in the world, but I find it hard to hold onto that perspective, as selfish as that might sound.  My world is different.  I am still grateful for everything I have, I am still aware of the suffering other people are going through, but that doesn't lessen the pain or make things easier to deal with right now.  I kind of hate that we always have to clarify that, as if sharing difficult things is some kind of competition and that every other person's struggle needs to be acknowledged before you can full delve into your own... I DO acknowledge that though, I really do.  I just miss my brother, that's all. That's what is consuming my world at the minute.  That doesn't mean I don't realise how lucky I am and that I am ultimately in a very privileged position to even be having the following thoughts. 

I seem to be experiencing what I can only describe as some kind of "mid-life" crisis that is completely related to Gary's death - a desperation to be living life in a way that makes me feel fulfilled, content, alive.  Living life the way he would want me to.  Taking risks, doing what I want to do, not what I should do.  I have been working for the same company for nearly nine years, and my role at the moment is so perfect in a logistical sense while having a young child and I love the people I work with (even though we all work in different states so we have never actually met in person), but the role itself does not light me up.  I know a lot of people's jobs don't light them up, most people work because they need money.  Big questions about how MUCH we really need are things I'm facing internally at the minute.  Reid and I have started some important financial discussions, trying to align our need with the bigger question of ~ how do we want to be spending our days? What really matters to us?  It's big stuff guys; it's messy and hard and really scary to think about taking any kind of risk.  I enjoy comfort zones and an empty calendar, but I feel to my core that things aren't right for me how they are.

When I think about what lights me up, it's writing.  It's sharing my stories and my struggles and my triumphs.  It's hoping I give people hope that healing isn't linear but it is possible, with lots of work.  Writing is my release, the thing that has brought me joy for as long as I can remember.  Making a career out of writing isn't exactly straight forward, of course.  I have a lot of options I need to explore, a lot of things to consider, a lot of lists to make, (I love me a good list).  This is the very beginning of what is likely to be a long, complicated, frustrating journey, but if it's one that can lead me to living my truth more fully, then I know it's what I have to do.  Even just taking tiny steps towards my goal will do for now.  Writing book outlines, getting my thoughts down more regularly in my journal, reading more, writing poetry, looking into literary agents and what's required to get one, looking into short courses, looking into maybe one day going on a writer's retreat, looking into self-publishing because WOW to get a book published traditionally is a long shot - but these are all things I can focus on and work towards.  There's more than one way to achieve something.  I don't need a strict timeline, I just need to inject more joy into my life, and for me - that's writing.  That's also more time at the beach, more weekends away (locally right now, obviously), more time reading ALL the books, more time that doesn't feel wasted.  I want my life to have purpose (of course it has purpose now, but I want more).      

I am still writing, as hard as it is right now, and I will keep writing.  For me, for Gaz, who was never afraid of a challenge and would be telling me to go for it; and for anyone out there who has a "lofty", "unlikely" or "unrealistic" dream - I will keep writing for all of us.  Whatever your "writing" is - do it.  A thousand times, do it.  Life is so unpredictable - I feel like my new words to live by are simply "more joy".  Let's create it.  We need it.  More.  Joy.  

I'm currently reading Untamed  by Glennon Doyle (amazing, highly recommend), and I'm going to finish this post with one of my favourite parts of it so far, its relevance pushing me further and making me more resolute to seek this joy:

Let's look at what we've written and decide these are

not pipe dreams; these are our marching orders.

These are the blueprints for our lives, our families and the world.

May the invisible order become visible. 

May our dreams become our plans.

(Doyle, G. 2020. Untamed. Page 71).