journal entries: no.1
May 4, 2026
Every creative slump feels like the worst and most unique experience of my life. I can’t find the words, the inspiration, the motivation, and then my whole world falls apart— it’s not just that “I can’t think of anything to do,” it’s, “I am worthless because I can’t think of anything to do.” Tired of knocking, I dramatically slump and slide down, back to the door and surrendering to the belief that there’s no one there and it is true: I am an imposter! I have never been creative or interesting, I’ve simply lucked out a few times at the hands of some spirit somewhere that took pity on my useless mind and fruitless desire to be creative and interesting, even though I’ll never be. But my luck has run out, the well is dry, and it’s time to quit.
And then—
I read a book!
I read a poem!
I take a drive!
Suddenly, I’m itching to put pen to paper, picking up new packs of Pilot G-2 0.7s, and dancing in my room to try and keep up with the speed of my busying brain which is back to bursting at its seams with thoughts and feelings and perspectives; a Miracle!
One that has only happened some hundreds of times before!
All that to say— a week or so ago, I returned home to miss Mary Oliver by way of the Wild Geese podcast by Anna Howard (who is responsible for dragging me out of the metaphorical ditch a good time or two now.) October, section 7, reminded me that, “This is the world. I am not in it. It is beautiful.”
Journal Entry from May 4, 2026:
I know now, like I’ve known before, but with the understanding that I cannot deny myself this that I need without risking the great Loss of Self. I want out. No, need out. Need to move on, move forward— what would Mary have to say? Likely, that there is no explanation; the truth is obvious! It is the wind blowing and the sun rising, coffee that hits my belly warm and kind, it is the tears that fall without prompt, a cat who comes without call and sleeps at your feet; and so will I! I will follow the truths that I know— truths about needing room to stand and space to walk and water to replenish my ever-emptying supply, my hungry heart running dry. It is time. Wind blowing, sun setting, hellos and goodbyes—it is time.