Things I could write about

I could write about how I got my nails done yesterday for the first time in months, in a super dark shade of purple/plum. But people don’t care about that.

I could write about the cauliflower soup I made yesterday. But I’m not a food blogger.

I could write about how I smelled and sensed snow in the air today. But there are no poetic words floating about in my head.

I could write about how, after two weeks off for vacation, I’m a little anxious at the thought of diving back into the joyful insanity of work again. I guess I could share how after every vacation I notice a little voice of fear in my head, wondering if I’ll somehow forget to be a good speech-language pathologist when I go back.

I suppose I could write about not knowing what to write. But I always do that.

I could talk about how the news, the articles, the talk of rape and rape culture and doubts and accusations and shame are breaking my heart, but I can’t stop reading.

I could attempt to explain how I am fairly confident that shame is the opposite of compassion, and the reason people shame themselves and feel shame for their decisions and experiences is due to the fear of being met with shame; if they knew they’d be met with compassion, they might find it a tiny bit easier to find compassion for themselves.

I could write about how it’s so much easier to say things to other people, to believe things for other people, than for ourselves.

I guess I could write how my grief comes and goes, and I’m not quite sure what to do with it. But I don’t have any words.

I could talk about my ever-ongoing battle of nurturing the introvert/routine-follower in me, and going out of my comfort zone/pushing myself a little bit. There’s a line somewhere between the two but it’s sometimes hard to see.

I could continue rambling on about anxiety or sensitivity or life. But I have nothing profound to say, and I write about those topics too much.

I guess I could write about any of those topics.
But I don’t have the words. I don’t have the courage. I don’t have the initiative.

So today, yet again, I’m not going to write.