How To Begin Again

Well hello, dear readers! I’ve missed you!

It’s been a minute since you’ve received a newsletter from me (almost a year, actually). About that…

An interesting thing happened.

It wasn’t getting COVID for the first time last July…
or taking a long vacation to reconnect with my family back in Wisconsin last August…
or returning to full-time hours and starting my new role at work last September…
or the large and somewhat unexpected home repair projects that have kept our house in a rotating state of disarray and mild disfunction for the past 11 months.

(Okay…perhaps it was ALL of these things.)

But the interesting thing I’m referring to is this: I simply stopped writing.

It is difficult to pinpoint how, when, and why exactly. But the motivation, the clarity, the trust in my writing slowly and steadily evaporated. What had been flowing steadily and consistently dried up like the parched summer soil so many days without rain.

For several weeks, in hopes of rekindling the flame and escaping my writers’ block, I turned to my private journal and put some energy into writing a few Morning Pages before work.

As I wrote over many days, I was somewhat surprised to notice an arc of amorphous grief and anxiety that was punctuating my mornings during that time. As I wrote honestly, there would often come a sweet relief of tears and the opening up of a new perspective and new hope about life, about the world, about my path within it. While this stream-of-consciousness writing didn’t provide concrete answers or action steps for moving forward, it helped unearth some unknown fears that had been simmering and eased my heart.

Amongst many of the patterns that emerged in those journal entries was a frequent thought that arose whenever I ventured into the topic of writing my newsletter again. Which basically amounted to: “What’s the point?”

Supported more deeply by the question: “What do I have to say that’s original, that’s unique, that hasn’t already been said?”

And entrenched further by the conviction: “There is SO MUCH worthwhile content out there, no one is going to bother reading mine. I can’t compete, so it’s not worth the effort.”

(Ahem…cue the violins, please!)

Maybe you can relate to this “downward spiral” experience: we get excited about a new idea or direction or venture in our lives; we find delight in a new hobby or challenge or activity or exercise or social connection or relationship; we invest time/energy/money/heart into pursuing said interest; we feel the aliveness that comes with taking a risk, stretching ourselves, putting in a new effort, stepping outside our comfort zone or usual way of being.

And then, sometimes suddenly, sometimes slowly & steadily…we stop.

Perhaps it’s an unexpected event or external change that brings things to a grinding halt: an injury or illness, a job change or loss, a break-up, a move, a death. Or maybe (as in my case), it’s more of a gradual disconnection: the difficulty of getting back into something after several days off or a few life interruptions; a limiting belief or assumption that emerges & begins to take root in the mind, sprouting tendrils of doubt and hesitation; the act of comparing ourselves & our performance to others and finding all the ways we don’t add up.

As though the universe were trying to convince me otherwise (imagine!), I began to hear from readers near & dear to me over the last few months about my absence: “Are you still writing? When will you send out another newsletter? I love reading them!”

And yet, in spite of these kind words of encouragement, the intrinsic motivation continued to evade me. As the weeks and months rolled by, I just couldn’t get myself to sit down and make it happen.

What’s up with that? Why is that even when others are cheering us on, we sometimes continue to run into a brick wall of non-action?

William & Susan Bridges, the authors of the book, Transitions: Making Sense of Life’s Changes , provide some illuminating answers. Their book describes some of the many developmental changes we go through as human beings throughout the span of a lifetime, inner “transitions” both large and small. William (who originally wrote the book over 40 years ago) posits that any time we are going through one of these transitions, the first phase of our inner change begins (somewhat paradoxically) with an Ending.

As I reflect back on the period that my writing stopped, I realize that I had finished my last days as an “educator” before taking my first official steps into a new work identity. Yet the significance of this Ending slipped past me quietly. There was no rite of passage or confetti thrown to mark the occasion…like so many moments of work/life transition (especially in Anglo-American culture), it just happened.

While this Ending was likely the catalyst, my writers’ block actually marked the next phase of my transition, one that William describes as the Neutral Zone. This is where we might say we are “stuck in the doldrums”: an often long and sometimes distressing period of what can feel like inactivity, inertia, confusion, lack of focus, and disorientation.

Despite the discomfort of this phase, William argues that this is actually a deeply important time of RE-ORIENTATION. As we tumble through weeks, months, or even years of resistance to identifying & acting on our dreams, goals, and ambitions, we are actually IN the fruitful process of a developmental shift.

But here’s the kicker: if we are willing to both tune into and TRUST this internal process, to not try to rush our way through it or force something to happen before its’ time, and to stay in touch with ourselves and our values, we will eventually enter into the third and final phase of a transition: the Beginning of our next chapter.

While I did not completely abandon my hope of writing again this past year, I also stayed open to messages from my intuition. The occasional private journal entry or Morning Pages activity felt like enough, a small success worth acknowledging. Thought I would often feel a sense of sad disappointment every time the idea to post a newsletter came and went, I also heard a quiet yet reassuring inner voice say to me: “one day soon, just not yet.”

And as I write this post, it’s fascinating to feel that first spark of a new Beginning. While my writing abilities are still intact, I can tell: I am different. My writing is different. There is less force, less urgency, a little more boldness. The small signs point to a near completion of just one of many Transitions still to come in my life.

So, if you’re feeling stuck, lost, unsure, drift-less, at a cross-roads: congratulations. You have entered that mysterious space of metamorphosis. New opportunities, new possibilities, new parts of yourself are quietly recalibrating and slowly coming into being, preparing to take flight.

Accept and trust the process, find even the smallest threads of connection to ideas and visions that light you up, and know that you are exactly where you need to be in order to begin again.

With love, light, and wildness,

Becky

P.S. - To the many beloved friends & family who’ve continued to read my imperfect newsletters and who’ve let me know that my writing matters: I am so grateful to you. THANK YOU for your support and for shining the light ahead on my path!