Returning to the River
Intention, devotion, & breaking through my writer's block
I’m writing this at the eleventh hour — technically 4:44 pm on Sunday — to be published by this evening. I don’t know what it will be yet. A semi-new formula I’m trying in order to break right through my writer’s block.
I told myself a couple months ago that I would start posting essays, ramblings, short stories, whatever semblance of a thought I had cooking up in my notes app, every Sunday of every week. Just write. Unblock the river.
I’ve wavered in that promise to myself on more than one occasion, and that’s perfectly fine, I have compassion for the too-tired, too-much-pressure part of me. But today, I’ve decided to embrace my Saturnian inner monologue, and stick to my goddamn deadline. Why does goddamn feel like such an abrasive swear? I was not religious growing up, but my relationship with God has evolved immensely over the last 10 years. I’ve been fixated on asking people their favorite cuss words lately. Mine is motherfucker. It has a much more comforting ring to it.
I had an intense breakdown this week in therapy. It was mostly centered around some unprocessed anger I was feeling, plus the fear of being alone. Quite a juicy combination. IYKYK.
The fire of Summer can often bring overwhelm. There’s a lot of noise, a lot of socializing, a lot of planning, obligations, and for me, I’m just realizing in this moment, the heat of summer brings me face to face with my own maturation process. Where do I want to go? Who am I becoming? Am I setting myself up, with all the mundane action steps necessary, to have the future that I want? It feels like being forged in the fire.
There is also the youthful, abundance-focused vibe of: have the most fun! play! create! live your life to the fullest! And not to be even more dramatic, but living in Georgia in the summer means literally moving through dense, humid, disgustingly-hot air all day long. If you’re not close to a body of water during this time, it can all feel supremely exhausting.
Looking back, I remember summers during my teenage years spent in my room, alone, binge watching my favorite movies or tv shows. Probably a lot of time on Tumblr. Obviously. I was not a teenager accustomed to sleep-away camps, or a lot of vacations outside of Georgia. This rest period became my summer ritual.
Although I’ve come a long way since 14, and I also have a deep love for the summer time, too much fire is overwhelming.
When the physical environment feels so thick and stagnant, and your mind is a fireworks show of ideas for you to try, it creates a mismatch. A trap, of sorts. I’ll just lay down and rest in the shade a while.
Creating Systems for Inner Resourcing
Saturn wins again. It’s time to build in some systems. Structure, rhythm, practices, daily devotions. What are those tiny, aligned action steps I can take every day to tend to myself? For example, making my tea first thing, writing my morning pages, taking the dog for a walk (no phone allowed), and finding my way back to my altar.
I’m still working on that last one. Even if it’s just lighting incense, taking a few breaths, stretching, maybe pulling a card, I’m honoring myself and setting an intention for the day. At some point, I’ll go deeper into the tea on being pissed off at my altar. It wouldn’t be a spiritual practice if you didn’t, at some point, resent it and let go of it completely.
Cooking thoughtful meals for myself, moving my body everyday, and reading/writing before bed are some of the other small but mighty ways I’m taking care of myself. These acts of devotion, delicately placed throughout my day, are building the foundation of trust and inner resourcing that I hope to carry with me into my next big leap. How can we expect to show up for ourselves in times of fear and difficulty, if we don’t build that trust now?
Honoring the Process Without Chasing the High
Some days, I do just need to lay in the shade for a while. Rest, integrate, let it all run in the background. Let it go, take a nap. No matter what Instagram gurus tell you, you actually can just allow the process to run its course.
Cathartic practices can be beautiful and powerful for unblocking, but they can also be incredibly intense and ungrounding. I want to show myself that I can also hold intensity without having to do anything with it. This is not about suppression, it’s actually about feeling and accepting all the parts of you.
I have to remind myself that part of building trust is to actually sit in the boredom, or discomfort without rushing to fill it with something more cathartic or numbing. Maybe I don’t need to scream-rage-punch-a-pillow, or go straight to my phone. I need to show my body that I can just be with this uncomfortable feeling and still feel safe in my own presence.
You’d be surprised how much expression and creativity comes to the surface when you just allow yourself to be in whatever state you’re in. Without fighting to change it.
Instead of making meaning about your anger or numbness or grief, watch how it moves. Watch what words, images, memories, or feelings come to you. If you can, write those down. Draw them out. Honor the feeling and how it continues to shift and change with your attention on it.
I’m still learning the difference between what’s mine and what’s just noise, when to dive into catharsis and when to let things be, when to speak up and when to listen. How to be creative and stick to a routine. The flow needs the riverbank, after all.
Even when it feels like I’ve been here so many times before, I know I’m further along on the spiral. Learning, practicing, and finding my way back again.
Xo,
Missy