Dammed Up

Write. Write without thinking. Without worrying about grammar, spelling or structure. Forget the punctuation. Just let the words flow like a fast-moving river, snowmelt pushing the water higher, rushing down stream until the words and thoughts spill over the cliff and crash in to the pool below.

I love waterfalls. I love photographing them, trying to get the exact right exposure that turns the water to a shiny smooth curtain with the greenery and rocks in balance and focus. Sometimes I’m more successful than others.

I take this same approach with writing which is… not great. I backspace as much as go forward, can’t let a spelling error slip by, write and rewrite in my head before I ever sit before the keyboard. I’m putting these words to the proverbial paper, here in my writing place, to hopefully break this barrier down. I love writing and I have a million ideas and stories and snippets and realizations trapped in my mind. I don’t care who reads it, or likes it or even if someone reads it. My brain itches with the thoughts and I need to get them out. I’m hanging on by a thread

I’ve really lost track of myself the last few years. By which I mean sometime since 2009, give or take. Got married, bought a house, had a baby, then 2 more babies. Moved again, got promoted turning my job in to something I like but still never felt compelled toward. Covid. Post-covid. 15 years gone by, cratering toward 50, a life half over (ideally, realistically) and

I

am

so

lost

Wife. Mother. Present Employee. Engaged Employee. Homeschool Parent. Caretaker. Adventurer. Lonely. Cook. Photographer. Overwhelmed. Curious. Creative. Unhappy. Nurturer. Aimless but seeking direction.

Hoping to open the floodgates. Find the headwaters. Clear the logjam.