I’m stymied by circumstances.
I can’t write about my life or my children, my world or my beliefs. I am constrained by silly necessities and the unforeseen upheaval in which I currently find myself. I can’t write in front of the distraction of the television or when certain others are in the same room – even if they are simply playing computer games. It is difficult to sit in a room where so many things should be done – the dishes, the laundry, the removal of disorder.
The urge to write is so strong yet I lack the space, the time, and now it seems, the ability.
There is no friendly coffee shop, no place to both be immersed in people yet alone. There is no space with light and busy people and coffee. There are no chance encounters or random overheard conversations. There is no easy way to transport the now computer as there was with the then computer.
There is the lonely bedroom, often with only the presence a cat who refuses to be quiet. There is the porch, with its uncovered sun glare and view of an wildly un-manicured lawn. There is the dining room with its antique peeling table and frequent interruptions or the basement with its cold, dreary darkness. There is a lack of space that says ‘me,’ a lack of some area with which I can identify and embrace.
I awaken each day to see only a lightening of sky through my small restricted view, yet I never fail to hope and believe. I believe that this day, THIS ONE, will be the day I discover my sanctuary. But each night I retire with the falling darkness and know that I have yet again failed. I fervently pray to find a spot in this new world where I can free my mind, my soul, and my gift.
Yet duty calls and the restrictions are numbing. How much easier to accept instead of fight, to embrace that which is instead of lust after that which cannot be?
Do not misunderstand. I am not unhappy. This new world holds a treasure trove of love, experiences, and ideas. I thank TPTB every day to have this new life, this new world.
The fault is not in this world so it must be with me.