How to write when you've forgotten how

Step One: You sit down and open up your blog. You read a few of your favorite entries to remind yourself that you can do this.

Step Two: You go to the weight loss blog and toss something down about superficial stuff because it's easier to do.

Step Three: Rearrange the kittens from directly in front of the computer screen and try to think of a time when there weren't kittens. (Can't be done.)

Step Four: Ramble.

I've defined myself as a writer for most of my life. I've earned decent chunks of my income from writing, just never enough to support myself, much less my family, from writing. Yet after R. died, I didn't want to write. Then it felt like I couldn't write. (There's a bit of irony here because I've been working on something for years now that has creativity as a tool for healing as a theme. My character may be smarter than I am, or I'm learning her journey much more personally than I ever intended.) Then when I tried to write, all I could do was spew pain and venom, and I didn't want to do that. There's a point where catharsis becomes self-indulgence, and I went way past that point.

None of that changes how much I need to write and how much I need to connect with people, albeit with through a medium of distance and illusion. Thus I blog, even when I know it's not worth reading. It's still an act of hope though that these few lines will help me get back to writing something worth reading and feeling like a person worth being.