The Long Time Gone, The Stall and now, The Jump...

It had been three months to the day since I've written a blog post (yesterday), it has been longer than that since I have written on the message boards, visited the sites of magazines I hold dear to my heart and exchanged witty banter with people cut from the same writing cloth as I am. I have secluded myself from the world because I didn't know how to handle the world I had finally chosen all on my own... and now, I am taking a jump.

Whew.

To say that I am nervous is an understatement. I don't know where or how to take the first step towards the place I used to be. The place where I was most comfortable at. So I am blogging, writing, and I am continuing forward until I find that place where I fit, snuggled in nicely, just like I once was.

These are my wobbly baby-steps.

Here is something that is blatantly obvious about me, I never do something unless I am ready, I have an inane need to be prepared. I over analyze like no one's business, I look under the hood, examine the undercarriage, poke the sleeping bear to see if it's still in hibernation mode, jump on the mattress to make sure the springs bounce but don't snap, stretch and pull at them to make sure they don't break and do about one million other things to prepare myself for any sort of problems that may come up for me. And what I have figured out from all of this, through three months (longer if you count the non-attendage of the writing message boards) of "waiting to be ready," is that I am stalling.

And what am I stalling from? What has caused me to be so very cautious? What in the world am I waiting for? A sign? An ephiphany? Another dream that takes me off to a magical place where the characters invade every aspect of my being?

Maybe I am. But I have made a decision, whether I am ready or not, I am taking this leap. I can not wait anymore. While it doesn't fit yet, the sweater can be dampened and pulled to fit me. I don't have to keep searching for the perfect situation, the perfect opportunity, the perfect solution. Because, to be completely honest with myself... nothing is "Perfect," ever. It is only my attitude that causes perfectly-flawed me...I am saying this because, with all of my flaws, my over-analyzing things, running over the same thought again and again and again, like a top that never drops, I am right where I need to be. Is there a better time than that?

I don't know. But I am going to find out.

And from here, I jump.

The Break

And it's official. Two months, almost to the day, my brain has ceased to pass words to my fingers. Yes, I've had little blurbs here and there and it's been rough, my life has taken an unscheduled, but absolutely necessary stop. It wasn't a block, it was more of an emotional strike. With all that has been going on, Mackenzie (my muse) had kindly scooted back to the corner to sit within the shadows. She's sipped on red wine in her leather boots, patiently braiding and unbraiding her auburn hair, catching flies between chopsticks, flicking her nails, doing interesting things that she has yet to share with me. Her patience waning.

Before my little break, I was under the assumption that I wrote because I wanted to, not because I had to. I'm not a "have to" kind of person, I've stricken those words from coming cross my lips for several different reasons. Plus, I'd gone many years without writing and while there was a piece of me missing, I wasn't completely unhappy. However, now that I have gone on the great journey, traveling through my mind in a gossamer string of cleverly webbed words, nothing feels the same.

And now, I have to say, I was wrong.

I have to write.

It's not as though I'm suffering from physical withdraw, not at the current moment anyway, it's more of a metaphysical angst. The pain in my heart because I've not written much over the past two months is great, and I never thought I would feel something like this.

Yes, I know, it's different.

The past few days have actually been almost excruciating, Mackenzie whispering small thoughts to me in her fantastic way, buttering me up for the time, in a few days I'm assuming, when I'm ready to jump back on the writing wheel. It's a feeling that is enthralling, yet scary. I'm not one that gives up - breaks are, sometimes, an evil we all may have to endure at one point or another. I'm not beating myself up for it. My RL wouldn't have been able to take the strain of another obstacle added, in my case it was not a decision I made willingly, it just sort of happened. But now, I know, I'm ready for the break to end. It's time, and I believe that with a certain amount of semblance in place that I am ready to take on the words and thoughts, the musings and whispers of my muse. I can only imagine where she will take me, or where I will find myself again. I'm looking forward to it.

Slowly, but surely I will work my way back, I'm ready!