Feeling Quiet (Day 17, Year 2)

For the first 16 days of this year, I've felt chatty in my writing. I had so much to say and thanks to COVID-19, I had plenty of material. 

Tonight, however, I have no idea what to write about. 

I've thought of this feeling as commitment-phobia; meaning there were lots of topics swirling in my head, but I was unable to commit to one topic leading to writing paralysis. I am not feeling that now. In fact, my mind feels relatively empty. I am not exactly content (I am rarely content), but I am feeling quiet. 

Feeling quiet is not an ideal place to be as a writer. I don't only write here, in Yoke. I write elsewhere and my livelihood is determined by my ability to never feel quiet. I feel a bit scared that tomorrow I'll wake up again with a completely empty mind. 

What if I am left with nothing to say?

I mean, I certain that will not happen. At least it won't be a permanent condition, because surely, something insane will happen in our house or the world or with my mother. There is a constant thread of "excitement" that seems to course through my life; so at least I can count on the "excitement" to give me something to say. 

For now, I feeling quiet and every single word I type feels like I am running uphill with weighted boots in the mud. It's a defeated sort of feeling. But, I am going to keep lifting one weighted leg out of the mud and up that hill, until I have something real to say. And maybe that is the real thing I have to say for tonight:

When you feel like you cannot take another step or write another word, do it anyway, even if it is quiet, short and a just a few words. It is not checking a box nor it is failure, it is just feeling quiet, accepting what is and moving forward, as best you can, until you have the voice and the energy to do more.