Writer's Block

Two months. A good two months went by where I was unable to write a single word, except for three pieces that were necessary.

I still can't seem to figure out how to put onto paper, to a group of people I know, and who knows who else that might come across this, what has actually happened in my life - what I experienced since mid-December. I can write about it in my journal, I can write about it in private pieces, and I can talk about it as much as invited. However, to write here - well, then I guess it becomes very real. That's the only thing I can think of why I cannot yet do it.

On the bright side, I am able to write again. I wrote in my journal every single day while I was on the John Muir Trail. Using my emotional pains and confusion, I decided to try a method that would not only help me put pen to paper, but also ease my frustration with being unable to talk to the person I cared the most deeply about, and tell her all the details of my crazy little life she supported so much. I decided to write to her - to just write like I was writing to her and to her only. In an email, talking on the phone, across the dinner table, over a glass of wine...whatever means we would have talked. Just write it down like they are the words coming from your lips and into her ears. Even writing this down brings tears to my eyes. It hurts, still, everyday.

I am not going to write about it all here. I just decided this. It is too personal and doesn't feel right to her and to my family. However, I will allude to it, to her, and to my internal experiences that were caused by heartache. I think maybe the problem is now that I am too committed in my mind to writing for reals - a book, and article for an outdoor magazine, or who knows what else. I feel, after almost exactly a year, I've moved beyond the blog, and into truly attempting to do this writing thing for real. I've got ideas, I've got experiences, I've got photos, I've gotten amazingly positive feedback...and I've got TIME. So much time. Maybe it's a now or never deal. Maybe it's a desperate attempt to feel like I am doing something with my life. Maybe it's just my time to fuck up.

I do not want to stop writing here, and I won't. There are plenty of topics that are blogworthy and that "my audience" might enjoy, but the real deep shit will likely go elsewhere. Actually, I have a topic to write about right now...