Empty

I'm feeling oddly...like writing...but I'm empty. I wonder if this is how artists feel after a while...they know they can paint or sculpt but they don't know what to paint...or sculpt...or design......talent wasted. I feel like my life is slipping by and the one thing I'm certain I should be doing...I'm not. I sound so egotistical...I have quite possibly misunderstood my writing ability...maybe the majority of people just 'think' they can write...maybe Im in that majority.

I think the biggest thing I struggle with is.....well okay let's be honest I struggle with a LOT but the 2 things I'm wrestling with are..#1. Who cares about my story? Everyone has one...it's like we all need to blow our noses but you don't have to tell me about it...I have one too... what makes anything I have to say about who I am so extraordinary someone needs to read it? #2?  I feel like somewhere, at some point someone expected me to write about Isaac and our story...and very gravely I think...no one needs to write OR read another book about someone losing a baby. Let me be honest...I was given a few books while I was pregnant with my boy and after we lost him...the books were about losing a baby...I never read them. I didn't care about someone else's story...I was living my own. I don't think those are heroic stories...especially knowing the infant mortality rate in third world countries is deplorable....what about those mamas and their stories...? Did you know the infant mortality rate in the US is something like 6 out of every 1000 babies? In Angola is 96 out of every 1000...96 stories over and over and over...who will tell their stories? So why should that be something I write about?

I have nothing...so I sit here with what feels like this pretty little wrapped present with nothing inside. I have nothing to give anyone...

So while I feel like writing and figuring this out, my words slapped on a white screen mean nothing unless I'm being silly and relaying my fight with Mr. PD (the Prarie Dog that resides up the hill) who is very obviously trying to take his life...every time I drive by his little mound.

We all have issues right? I'm a jumbled mess and the real truth is life is in the way and I've been self demoted to a normal, pew warming, TV watching, procrastinating ... person...I'm a member..not a participant right now.. It's a boring...safe...unfeeling place to be. I am sitting in the shallow end of the pool and I have very little use for depth at the moment.  Let me put it this way...I can go deep with other people regarding their stuff...just not mine...not right now. I'm giving myself permission to do that...so don't judge me. Yep...so I have nothing to write about right now. Soon though...it's going to bubble up...and then who knows what will happen?