Dealing with a lack of inspiration

I have been struggling to write anything. My heart just isn’t in it to engage in fancy vocabulary or able to edit with unblinded ease. I lack excitement and contain a vast amount of blah.

I can’t make anything make sense, but I have plenty of ideas. I am full of ideas, but the ability to sit still and put them down here to share them escapes me. I feel like a human glitch. Not as if I am glitching but that I am an actual glitch.

I’ve opened my site many times, read other people’s work, commented, and even begun to work on my own writings, but nothing comes of it. Nothing really sparks from these fingertips. There are just dead ends.

So what do I make of this? Why is this happening to me? Why do I currently have 33 drafts that are all unfinished and waiting for me? I’m uninspired, I guess. I lack the things that feed my soul, and I have found myself where I just do the hard stuff because I have no other choice. I am an adult, and I have to.

We can’t live in our Instagram feeds where to do Yoga every morning in the sunlight and drink our coffee in the fresh morning air. I wish, but that’s not reality. I live in the real world. The world is full of annoying shit, bogging me down. Annoying people, soul-crushing pointless tasks, and fake shit. I am weighed down by it all. It swarms around me daily, and I can’t seem to evade it. All I can do is smile through it like adults do.

Then I collect my tiny paycheck, otherwise known as a slap in the face, and wonder what it’s all for. I don’t even get a good payoff for this at the end of the month! So I am in a cycle of shit. I go to bed and wake up to do it again.

There is a simple answer. I am not complaining about my life. Many of us are doing the same thing. We are surviving, uninspired, and just going through the motions. We never planned on this being our life. We hoped for more, but here we are, just getting by, and some of us are happy enough. I think that’s okay too.

I still know I am blessed in many ways. I see it. I know I have a great husband and wonderful kids. Some of the very best! I haven’t forgotten how amazing they are. I have a place to live and some food to eat… for now. We are good and making it. I know we are alright. God provides. This isn’t a complaint.

It’s me lost and simply lacking joy and fulfillment in my day to day. Things for me have lost their color and become commonplace. I no longer wonder, looking up at the sky and watching the clouds. I don’t marvel at God’s creations around me. I don’t move my body or breathe deeply. I am programmed in so many ways now. It feels wrong and goes against the fabric of who I am.

Truly I feel like a part of me is being killed. I know that seemed dramatic, but I can feel the blood being cut off from my 6th sense, and the life force is destroyed. But I know it’s not totally dead yet. It’s just obstructed, blocked. There must be a way to save myself, I hope.

But how? How when I am so entangled. So much is resting on me playing this game. I am trapped. I don’t even know if this is a bad or good place to be anymore because I am too deep inside the lion’s mouth. The war of good and evil rages on, and I am just a bystander. Numb on the sidelines. Waiting.

Maybe I am worse than that. I am a robot. Follow commands and am not even sure where the orders come from, but I do them. Repeatedly, over and over, untell I am sick. I am a shell, my heart is broken, and my soul leaves me altogether.


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