My writing state of affairs….

It's been a while since I've written anything with content for others.

I catch myself procrastinating when I think about writing and I'm not sure why.

I question the season when I considered myself a writer, and wonder if any of it was ever good, and does a real writer only create when they have nothing else to do?

Writing gave me a sanctuary. I could feel the concentration it took blocking out the thoughts and feelings that were dominating my existence.

The writing allowed me to dump and sort through my history and make peace with what's been done, happened, what's already been.

It gave me the hope that it would speak to another's pain and insert healing and peace there instead.

I could dream of a day when a piece would catch fire and change my life irrevocably for the better.

It kept me connected.

Once I laid down my demons I told myself I could write about anything, that it didn't need to be heartfelt, lived experience, or divinely instructed, and then immediately felt blocked. And when I glanced at a few words I had written, I cringed a little. So without genuineness to write with, a little bit of insecurity tossed in, and a blessing of my focus shifting from writing to doing, the need went radio silent.

I've been in an in-between season of transitioning to a new thing, an in-between of the in-between.

As my client list grows, my lifestyle needs constant adjusting, and maybe I’m coming to terms with embracing that every day will always be different than the last.

And I'm still trying to wrap my brain around the last 11 months of my life. I left the person I knew on the beach last September, but didn't realize this until a few months ago. I am a new creation, and God has put an abundance of faith in me. Talk about role reversal. I need to get this right.

My focus on the hour by hour of serving others, to “inspire and influence” individual healing and growth is laser sharp, and the occasional popping in of insecurity, take up the space where maybe I could create.

I do not want to be the person who writes and shares, then disappears indefinitely without a word or warning, and leave all my work alone in the ether of the world wide web, not having been given its proper farewell. But I'm not done yet so this is my placeholder.

Once my new season arrives, and probably with it the darker, less time outside days of winter, I believe the space in my mind will return.

To anyone who has read my thoughts, who is reading this, thank you. Please know that transition takes time, and making sense of it all, even more. But this is growth. The stretching, the faith, the abiding, the observing, the learning, and then eventually the consolidation. I would not want anything less than this for any of us.

Big smiles,

Elisha