If A Computer Can...

Then I can too...

Like a computer that has constant applications running in the background, that is how my mind has been feeling lately...

I cannot pinpoint the exact moment in time when my mind began feeling cluttered, when my thoughts became crowded, or when my drive faltered, but I feel like there is no longer any room for me. Looking back on it, I can kind of give a start point when my drive faltered but I would like to believe that the situation didn't have anything to do with it. What situation you ask? About a month and a half ago, I had surgery to remove what they refer to as a "chocolate cyst" from my left ovary. Because I couldn't really do too much afterwards, the following few weeks started to wear me down. Granted, I probably needed the rest and to allow others to take care of me, being that "dependent" felt crippling to me. After so long, it becomes hard, if not harder, to get yourself mentally and physically back to where you once were. Almost like climbing the side of an icy mountain in six inch heels.

Other than that, there are things going on in my life that I feel should require my complete attention and my purest emotion, but those things are things that I cannot figure out at the moment. I have found myself quietly thinking and trying to eliminate all of the possibilities, but none of which require what I feel that they should. In that aspect, I feel that I may just be unnecessarily searching for something to, I guess, be wrong. I'm not exactly used to things going so right for so long and I find it a rather awkward thing to accept. Don't get me wrong, I am extremely grateful for such a blessing, but it's just that I guess I am not used to such peace.

Then, there is the issue of me as a writer. Well, it's not exactly an issue per say; it is more like I am dealing with a challenge that I might be too afraid to face. I am afraid of the endless possibilities; of the things that my pen is capable of. I am afraid of negative feedback because it is something that I am not used to and I am afraid that I wouldn't know hot to react to it. I am afraid to come up with an ending to a story that I have been working on forever. To simply put it, I am too afraid to step out of my box. Wow, fear is stumping what should be monumental literary growth for me. Reading that admission, makes me feel ridiculously foolish for even feeling like that and I am beyond embarrassed for even publicly sharing that feeling.

Apparently, reading back through, I am making mountains out of molehills and creating problems where there aren't any. It seems to me that if there was to be an actual problem, then that problem would actually be me....