Do you hear that creaking sound? Could someone pass me the oil can, please?

I’m feeling pretty rusty after a brief hiatus from updating my blog. Kind of funny to me since I still haven’t hit the one month mark; with so little time under my belt I really didn’t think it would be any big deal to skip it for a few days and concentrate on other things.

Back in the Saddle Again

Frankly, I knew I’d developed a bit of a “habit” but was a bit taken aback at the extent of my withdrawal symptoms initially. Especially since I’d downloaded the WordPress app for my phone. I knew I was in trouble when the triage nurse was looking at me strangely in the emergent care facility as I explained why the knuckles on my right hand were bruised and bloody, and the index and middle finger –  you know, the one best for scrolling on a touch screen and then the best back-up finger – were at least severely sprained and possibly broken. She kept looking at me very queerly and then delayed me quite a while with the psych consult because they couldn’t seem to understand my very rational explanation that I had to keep beating my hand with a ruler and ordering myself to PUT THE PHONE DOWN during those first 48 hours of withdrawal. Obviously, neither the nurse nor the psychiatrist have ever blogged. (I may have taken some literary license with the truth in that last part, but trust me it’s less boring this way.)

But then, after the withdrawal, I began to hit that tipping point where it gets hard to start up again. What had seemed so easy just a few days before (don’t think I didn’t go back and read my own post mocking me about how grateful I was to have found writing as an outlet, and knowing that at that point in time my problem was narrowing down which idea bouncing around my brain I would commit to words; oh yeah, that really helped make things better!) And the longer I waited to sit down and write, the harder it became to sit down and write.

Thinking about it earlier today, I came to the conclusion that writing – at least for me – is like exercise. Both enhance my life and are good for me, both make me feel better about myself when I do them. Once I’m in a groove, doing the activity regularly, I love it – even become a little addicted to it (yes, even exercise, believe it or not, even though I’m usually in favor of doing whatever is least likely to involve getting hot and sweaty unless sex is part of the package). But, let me lose my momentum. and for some reason I can find a million and one excuses not to write or exercise. I will pour more creativity and energy into making excuses than I’d ever need to just go ahead and do the thing I’m making excuses not to do. What is it about humans that causes us to make things so difficult?

Or maybe it’s just me. Is it just me?

Anyway, somehow today I managed to move these creaky limbs towards the laptop (yes, the fingers have healed sufficiently to type, thank you for asking) and shook off enough of the rust from the oxidized writer part of my soul to deliver this post and attempt a routine again.

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