The cursor waits patiently.
There is a stark white canvas in front of me, mine for the taking.
The glow of the screen is unforgiving as it lights up my face.
The gentle hum of the laptop is the only audible sound apart from my occasional heavy sighs.
I’m longing to hear furious keystrokes.
I want to spin tales of new self discoveries, my grief and healing process, the latest in our journey to add to our family and my most recent motherhood mishaps and joys.
The warmth on my knees feels strangely comforting but I am getting more and more frustrated by the minute.
The cursor blinks incessantly.
My head is full, my thoughts on complete overdrive.
So many ideas and feelings swirling around my brain.
I know I need to write.
Get it all out.
But I am frozen unable to hit the keys.
The words are there, but I’m struggling with how to string them together.
Just start I say aloud.
The cursor mocks me.
It’s been too long.
I am out of practice.
I don’t think I have written anything substantial in a while.
I’ve experienced writer’s block and blog burnout before and I’ve taken breaks, but this feels different. I’m uninspired and frankly, lazy. There’s a word. I haven’t felt up to doing much of anything lately. Especially writing.
I know the cursor will be there when I’m ready.