There has been an awakening. Mine. It feels as though I was underwater for a long time. Since the spring, so much has happened. I’m still taking care of myself through issues I’ve had with anxiety and depression. I bottle-raised a kitten I named Kirrah, after the Kirrah in the Second Realm trilogy. I got so caught up in the daily dramas with me, my man and our roommate – we became twenty-somethings living paycheck to paycheck, balancing work with each others’ company. It’s been a freeing time, a long period of growth and discovery.
Unfortunately, I became a writer who wasn’t writing.
When I started this website, I came here with a hunger for storytelling and a need to share it. I threw everything I had into word count goals and story goals. I set aside time to write, but I didn’t have much else in life aside from that. After my dad passed and our lives changed, it flipped. I made time for everything but writing. Worse, I became afraid of my own storytelling. I had a fear that I was growing stagnant, along with a fear that my new writing wasn’t up to par with what I’ve already written. Having problems with anxiety and panic, fear is a teacher I learned quickly from.
Oddly enough, it was my roommate’s obsession with Hamilton: An American Musical that broke through everything.
The song “Non Stop” struck me the hardest, as I fell in love with the show. The drive of Alexander Hamilton (Lin-Manuel Miranda) to write was covered throughout the song and the second act, but one set of lyrics drove home to me:
How do you write like tomorrow won’t arrive?
How do you write like you need it to survive?
How do you write every second you’re alive?
Every second you’re alive
Every second you’re alive
That was how I approached writing a while back. Writing was everything I was and everything I had. It composed the larger part of my identity. With a passion that runs that deep, burn out hits hard.
That’s what happened. I burned out.
Burning out is the toughest thing that can happen to someone who has invested so much time and effort into their craft. I felt so lost without having the largest part of my identity (being a writer), that I drifted through, going through phases and interests like a dying man trying to find water.
Hamilton stuck. When I ran though those lyrics and recognized a part of myself in them, I asked myself why I wasn’t writing. What happened to that spark? That drive? Where did it go? I think that was what put me back on the right track to writing again. I’ve touched the power of writing again. I know what overwhelms me. To put me back on track, I think I need to take it slow and recognize when I’m starting to chase my own tail about my writing woes (oh, woe is me). My reemergence will be slow and careful, but I promise I’m still here.
And hey, Hamilton does help.
I’m just like my country
I’m young, scrappy and hungry
And I’m not throwing away my shot!
Too bad my man has to suffer. Hamilton has been the apartment soundtrack for the past few months and he’s sick of it already. Poor guy 😉