A writer is someone for whom writing is more difficult than it is for other people.
Today I am thankful. I am thankful for quiet moments in the morning. To wake up and have energy. For a hug from my husband. For my husband. For our sweet pup who is always so excited to see me. For my car and my job and where I live. For my friends. For my family. For Jesus and salvation and the hope of heaven. For prayer.
I am thankful for Chinese food and blue skies and absolutely brilliant red leaves. I'm thankful for my burnt orange pea coat and my comfortable black pants. I'm thankful for caffeine and for chocolate. I'm thankful for cell phones and computers. I'm thankful for comedies. And for mistletoe.
I even felt thankful for words. I am always thankful for words. And for getting to write them.
Today I felt thankful all day long. Really I did. I just never felt like telling you about it.
These last few months have been a strain for my introverted soul. I've been around more people than normal and under more stress than normal. I've had to share more than normal. More than I'm comfortable with. I'm stretched online and at work and at home and at doctors' appointments and on the phone. It feels like I am stretched -- pushed, pulled, shoved -- everywhere.
And I committed to letting words go every single day.
So I'm pounding out posts I'm not proud of at the end of a day when I'm tired and trying to achieve a month of daily blog posts. I'm starting to think this wasn't the best idea.
I feel thankful but I need more time. I need more thought. My writing needs more work before I let people see it.
I feel exposed.
And when I feel exposed, the doubts start to creep in. This has been when I've ripped up pages of effort. This has been when I've let the phone ring and ring without answering. When I feel like I'm not good enough and worry I'll never be good enough.
I crawled into bed last night and wanted to pull the covers over my head. This is when I contemplate signing off of social media. This is when I think about deleting the blog. This is when I fantasize about being a hermit. This is when I want to disappear.
You aren't exposed when you're invisible. But you're not known either. That's the trade-off.
And I know it isn't worth making. I know this is just the vulnerability hangover. I've written about it before.
I do feel thankful, but today writing about it is hard.
I am thankful this feeling doesn't last forever. And that I only committed to 16 more days of daily blog posts.