>It’s been forever since I have written. Frankly, a blank page scares me because that’s when I have to really think deeply. And I am terrified of what I know is there when I look inside myself. Since I am tired I am going to borrow a bit from a journal recently I wrote about what is going on with me.
I am making myself write because I don’t want to. At least I think I don’t. I don’t look forward to confronting the stuff that is happening inside this brain. Lately I’ve been getting by with my addictions, namely my novel reading. I love getting lost in the characters’ problems. I love forgetting myself by going to another world. I know this isn’t wrong to a degree. I’ve been reading Jodi Piccoult, whose books deal with intense, moral and controversial issues. Hard to put down! She covers themes like self-esteem, popularity, dysfunctional families (whose isn’t?), grief, loss, revenge, redemption, betrayal and faith/spirituality. I’ve learned a lot from her books and I look forward to reading them each day.
But I often feel ashamed or guilty because the themes are so heavy and I tend to become rather anti-social when I read a really good novel (or am otherwise immersed in something deep and passionate, like card-making or writing for example). I don’t like coming back to real life because I always know what’s going to happen. Lately, I feel guilty because I am not practicing my mindfulness or “with it” skills. That and I am beating myself up for not reading the Bible or having a “quiet time.” (What does that mean anyway????) Reading these books has kept me “safe.” By that I mean, less bad thoughts, because I am frankly thinking less about my own problems. But it also means, I feel very out of sync. Like I am not even really alive. And that I’ve been treating others in my life poorly.
I tried to take a break in between the last novel I finished and the current one. So for two days I forced myself to read my Creativity/spirituality book and write in my journal. And it just made me mad and anxious.
The reason I am escaping has to do with, as I said, my thoughts. They are not fun.
As a rule, I try to moderate everything that I do. I am always concerned that I am doing everything right (not too much of this, not too little of that.) I know, I hate that about me but I am not about to start judging my judging, so I will accept that my perfectionism makes me ugly at times but try to accept it.
But I will also thank God for his good and wonderful gifts of creative people who write engaging stories…and many other things. And trust that He loves me no less if I happen to be annoyed with Christian judgements going on in my head, so much to the point that I am resentful of He Himself and the Bible itself. (More on this in another entry).
Well, I am going to go to bed now.