Hmm.
I keep trying to come up with comparisons or metaphors for what it's like when, after months of just existing, you actually begin to start living again, but there aren't any that fit or that even come close. I'm not out of the tunnel, but ahead of me there's a brightening, something pale in the dark that might be a light.
It's a start.
I have that itch, again - that must-create drive that only entirely falters when things go pear-shaped and/or otherwise become too much to handle without shutting down all but basic functions. I taught myself to crochet, so I've been making a lot of washcloths to experiment with stitch patterns. But, of course, my brain wants words, too - something beyond journalling.
I know I said this on Tumblr already, but... the part that sucks most about ‘recovering’ from a months-long writing/creative hiatus is that every time I have to build my confidence up all over again. Every time it’s like starting from scratch.
It's a start.
I have that itch, again - that must-create drive that only entirely falters when things go pear-shaped and/or otherwise become too much to handle without shutting down all but basic functions. I taught myself to crochet, so I've been making a lot of washcloths to experiment with stitch patterns. But, of course, my brain wants words, too - something beyond journalling.
I know I said this on Tumblr already, but... the part that sucks most about ‘recovering’ from a months-long writing/creative hiatus is that every time I have to build my confidence up all over again. Every time it’s like starting from scratch.