I’m still having difficulty writing. However, although I’ve been struggling with my writing, I’ve still been using other creative outlets to cope with the frustrations of my illness. I’m making index card art with more frequency. Instead of using my sketchbook, it’s easier to carry a small stack of white 6 inch x 4 inch cards (15.24 cm x 10.16 cm) and a few pens around with me to draw something, while attending my pain management programs and other medical appointments.
Line drawing and basic doodling have become easy ways to distract myself from thinking about my pain. I guess that makes writing the harder way I’ve chosen to cope with my pain, since the greater my pain the less able I am to focus and concentrate on putting words together on a page. I’m anxiously anticipating a break in the block because writing has always been part of my self-care.
In the meantime, I can I only hope my pain management program instructors understand that I can draw lines on index cards and still pay attention to the information they share…
Writer’s block is a terrible affliction. I have so much happening in my life that I want and need to write about but my brain seems to be locked in a struggle with itself about which story to tell first and how to tell them. I started my blog as one way to cope with my illness so I wasn’t trapped inside my own thoughts, especially the negative ones. However, lately, even with so much happening to and around me, I can’t let much of it out. I must have at least half a dozen posts started but they are each a long way from finished.
Luckily, I’ve been able to maintain my connection to the creative practice that I also started as another method of coping, so the art is still being created. I’ve been posting what I’ve been creating on my Instagram page, which I suppose is a small release because I do write captions for the things I share. Still, I need to figure out a way to clear the cobwebs or lift the brain fog – whichever idiom is more suitable – so I can get back to documenting and sharing my experiences with the unending hope that what I write helps someone have a better day, as much as it usually helps me.
We each live life in our own boxes. Some of our boxes are bigger than other boxes. Some of them allow the flow of information through their walls. Others are made from rigid materials that permit no changes. Fortunately, we can decide when and if the walls of our boxes will ever come down. Still, as much as we are constrained by boundaries of our own making, the things that hold us back the hardest are usually beliefs ingrained in our societies and the institutions built around them.
These beliefs and institutions are the foundation upon which all our boxes stand and they influence us all from the earliest stages of our lives. They direct the way we see the people in boxes around us and ourselves. They often affect the choices we make about which people in which boxes we can and cannot connect with; and if those beliefs and institutions remain stagnant or rile against becoming open and inclusive of all people in all boxes, those of us who have been educated solely by them will never open ourselves to change.