For the past several years, I’ve been neglecting my writing. Yeah, I’ve turned out a few short stories, but I haven’t been able to make much progress in longer projects. I keep getting distracted and lose focus on what I’m working on. Either that, or I become disinterested or anxious when I think about going to write.
Writing has become a source of stress for me. Not in a conventional or rational way. Rather, in that way where other things become associated with it to the point that I’ve lost my ability to focus on the good instead of the bad. It takes effort to commit to any thoughts I type out. By the time I’ve gotten 500 usable words, I’m tired.
My new therapist is trying to help me rework my brain. Part of this includes exercises I’m demonstrably uncomfortable with. It’s easy for me to dismiss and ignore them. They’re not awful exercises; they’re just things that grate on my nerves.
Instead of focusing on the negative things my headspace is doing for me, I think I want to return to earlier exercises that I neglected. I didn’t wake up wanting to write this post, but I managed to do so anyways. It isn’t a novel, or a story, or anything that I can get paid for. However, it is something productive I managed to do in spite of a mind that thinks otherwise.
I will try to hold onto this small victory.