So, I used to have a three page a day journaling habit. I say used to, because I can’t remember the last time I did it for more than a couple of days running. First, I decided to go digital. And I did that for a couple of weeks, but then when I started scheduling time to write for public consumption, the journaling fell by the wayside. And then, I stopped writing for public consumption a week or so ago. I hit a chapter end, and had a little block, and then I had some real-life stuff go haywire, and just…didn’t get back into it yet.
I knew this summer would give me a lot of good thinking time. I expected to find some answers to stuff, and I have. I didn’t expect to come face to face on a daily basis with the fact that my major stumbling block is me.
My modus operandi is that we find what works and then we do more of it. At least, that’s what it is in theory. Because the journaling really worked for me. But what I realized this morning is that I am not journaling because I don’t want to hear what I have to say about what’s going on in my life right now. Nice, right? Because I have just admitted that I would rather sit here in an emotional swamp than light a lantern and find a path out of here.