When your last blog was about whether or not you missed the Rapture, you are in danger of having your writer’s block grossly misinterpreted by the cursory reader. But I promise, I’m still here. And for a while, the right side of my brain has looked like this:
Nothing was moving in there. Everything: ideas, inspiration, my repository of clever and witty comebacks, all seemed to have been sucked dry. I couldn’t find anything in there to write about. I was old news. My life was old news. Everything remained the same. There was not a story I could tell you to move you to the edge of your seat; or to move you in any way at all. I feared I had run out of anecdotes. I was about to cue the dramatic swan song.
Then I realized something. Other people are great. Because other people can see things about you that you can’t see. Other people are like mirrors. Shiny, magical mirrors.
Because they help you set things straight every now and then: “That’s not the right shirt for you”, “that guy is a basement dweller”, or “Don’t blow this out of proportion”. . . these are the kind of things I have to be ready to hear from those who care about me. And my friends don’t hesitate to be honest with me about the tricksy things. Even though I may not always act like it, I love them for it.
Because they show you things you can’t see on your own. And I don’t just mean the spinach in your teeth, or the fact that you’re wearing two clashing socks. I’m talking about things you may have never noticed before. Since my last update, I have been examining and reexamining myself, to no real avail. I tried to figure out how I was useful, what I could bring to the table. I kept coming up empty.
I was too close to the project.
I couldn’t see that I was useful and had things to offer, because it took someone sitting down with me and saying, “What are you even talking about, Beth? You can do <battery list of impressive things>! Get yourself together.”
In recent days, a few important people have taken the opportunity to bolster my confidence, to let me know they have faith in me. And that they wouldn’t stop pestering me until I went out and did the great things they knew I could do. So I sat down to write, to think, to look intently at the encouragement of others; letting it shimmer in the light.
My eyes are newly opened, to see what they can see.