For the first time since we’ve been home, I did some art journaling today. Took me over three hours to do one page, because my heart just wasn’t in it. I spent some time looking at old pages from the past year and a half, and so much has changed. Granted, a lot of it was expected: I knew we were going to move home from Japan, I knew we were planning on buying a house, I knew we’d each have new jobs, I knew there’d be a lot of adjusting. But a lot has changed that I didn’t expect.
I’ve been in a funk that I just can’t get out of, and I want the parts of me back that read, write, create, and care. How many days have gone by with me thinking I need to finally get around to writing so and so back, or that I need to work on a project or post on my blog, where I did completely the opposite? How much time have I wasted sleeping or dreaming as I look out at the gloomy weather? I feel blocked, and like it’s time to break the wall.
It’s time to break the wall.