I wonder sometimes why I have nothing to say. Do I have writers block? Do I just not care? Do I just not feel anything I have to say is important? Am I not funny enough? Not witty enough?
None of this matters. I write because I enjoy it and if someone likes it, then awesome, but sitting here with my computer in front of me, imagining writing the perfect blog post or great masterpiece or jumble of thoughts is frustrating when I have nothing to say.
I used to sit in twelve step meetings, waiting for my turn to speak, imagining the perfect speech. The perfect and most inspirational thing to say to that one person in a room of twenty people that might actually need to hear it. Instead I just opened my mouth and spouted a a lot of nonsense, sober honesty, sadness, anger and frustration with a little humor sprinkled in. I got told a lot that honesty would keep me sober, well it has after when I finally understood what it meant.
I can be honest all day about the little things, but expressing how much I am struggling, hating life, wanting to die, wanting to drink, wanting to self destruct is way too hard. It’s really hard to be that vulnerable, but when I finally had enough and did it, just let the feelings flow, I realized how much easier it was to resist the next temptation.
Honestly, who cares what people think of me and my story? It doesn’t matter how inspiring I am or how confident I am, it matters how I decide to make the conscious choice to keep going.