Writing Through The Weight
Life has been heavy lately, both physically and emotionally.
These past 6 months, while full of many beautiful things as well, have been an especially challenging time for my family. In the past, my writing has always thrived in the harder points in my life, because it was a primary means for escape, but that doesn’t seem to be the case now. I’m sure that’s in large part due to the embodiment work I’ve done over the years, but it’s also because life itself has just been especially difficult. And don’t get me started about the state of the world right now. It’s no wonder many people, myself included, have ended up with a total lack of motivation and inspiration.
I’m finding myself at a loss for words in the midst of this season. Literally. They’re not coming, whether it’s poetry or prose. Even writing blog posts and book reviews seems too great a challenge these days. The emotional and physical fatigue have led to intense mental fatigue. I know I’m not alone in this—we all have times where our creativity seems to dry up, for one reason or another. Writing can be tough even under the best of circumstances, so it’s not surprising I’ve had to step back as I’ve been in survival mode.
When I did a quick, desperate search for ideas on how to maneuver through this, I found all the typical advice about writer’s block. The common thread is an endorsement of hustle culture, all framed as “pushing through” or “overcoming”. And before anyone comes for me, my own posts on this blog about using prompts or writing sprints to break through have some of that very same vibe! I’m sure it works for many people. In fact, I’m guessing it works for most people. Why else would it be pretty much the only approach to this issue? Like most things, the answer might be tied up a bit with capitalism, but I’d like to gently push back against that advice (including my own from before).
For disabled writers, people experiencing burnout, and those living with chronic illness or navigating grief, I think this advice can actually be harmful. At the very least, as someone currently sitting in all of those descriptors I just listed, it feels patronizing and insufficient. It feels like it completely misses the mark. So, I’m choosing to look at it a little differently.
Writer’s block isn’t failure. It’s a signal that my mind and body are asking for care. And I want to honor that.
But how? How can I both honor my current state and continue to keep my writing alive? Let me be clear—I’ve got nothing figured out. I’m right in the middle of this still, and this post isn’t so much an instructive guide as it is a processing of thoughts and instincts. While I hope it produces something useful, not only for myself but for others, I am not putting that kind of pressure on this.
The first question I always tend to ask myself when something’s “off” is: What’s really happening beneath the surface? Whatever it is, it’s presenting as a lack of motivation and inspiration, but what’s driving that? For me, it’s primarily grief. In less than 6 months, I learned devastating news about something one of my children experienced (which triggered my own PTSD), and my grandmother died. Two very different kinds of grief, but both heavy nonetheless. And as is always the case for me, my body has responded to the stress by shutting down.
Now, thankfully, this hasn’t been as drastic or complete as it was in other periods of difficulty in the past. I’m fortunate to have a safe home, wonderful family, and strong social support system now, and it’s making an immeasurable difference in my capacity to move through these struggles. But it’s still a lot, and as a disabled person with chronic illness, stress is one of the worst things for my physical wellbeing.
Stress, grief, pain, and overwhelm often show up as creative paralysis. This isn’t a new phenomenon, and it certainly isn’t unique to me. When our energy is being siphoned by major life stuff, it’s hard to find any left for creative endeavors. I think that’s why it’s important for me to find outlets that can clear up some space again. I’m not even talking about writer’s block just yet. I’m talking bigger picture here… In order for me to reconnect with my passion for writing, I have to find ways to reconnect with myself.
Here’s what reconnection means for me right now:
For me, it looks like journaling again, with no direction or prompt. No “purpose”. Just free writing whatever comes to mind.
I had a friend suggest voice memos for times when I just literally can’t bring myself to write. I hit record and dump whatever I’m thinking or feeling that way.
Conversations with other people have also helped me bring the deeper stuff to the surface, so I can work directly with the underlying things restricting my access to flow.
Really digging into physical self-care by slowing down and using my embodiment practices more intentionally again. This means breath work, meditation, baths (with salts, herbs, or oils for an extra boost), rest, light exercise and physical therapy, sound healing, singing, dancing, etc.
Along those same lines, I’m putting effort into myself. Cooking or buying delicious meals. Getting my hair cut. Using my favorite lotion. Getting dressed, even when I’ve got no appointments or places to go. Something about this helps break through the stasis and gives me a sense of momentum.
I’d say these things are starting to help, at least enough that I’m here, writing this post after weeks of staring at flashing cursors. I’ve got a ways to go still, but any progress is good at this point, and I’m celebrating these wins. I hope to be able to use some of this movement to begin approaching writing again consistently. I’ve gathered a low-effort list of adaptable strategies as I gently return to writing, and figured I’d share those here as well.
Small ways I can get back to writing:
I can use voice-to-text dictation on days where writing or typing feels like too much. Braindumping in this way now will only make it easier when I do have motivation to sit down and really focus on the writing of it.
I can take my own advice by doing short writing sprints with no other goal than setting the timer and showing up for those few minutes at a time.
Again, I can take my own advice by using writing prompts when my own ideas aren’t coming. Those little sparks of inspiration might just turn into flame eventually.
Someone suggested copying some of my favorite sentences or passages from books I love, just to get a feel for language again. If my own work isn’t coming easily, maybe soaking in someone else’s, and simply appreciating the craft again, will help.
Along those same lines, I can read or listen to audiobooks. Immersing myself in literature often has a way of kickstarting my own creativity. For me in particular, I find that going back to my comfort reads is the most effective, but maybe you’ll find that exploring something totally new is what you need.
I can make lists or write little blurbs if constructing a full scene feels like too much. Even a bullet point list, brainstorming a character or setting, creates forward momentum.
I can compile/design playlists or moodboards for my projects. Sometimes switching up to other forms of media can get the creativity going again when writing isn’t possible.
I’m sure I’ll come up with more to add to that list as I get back into the swing of things, but I think my main priority is to remain flexible and low-pressure. Even if I only do one of those things in a day (or hell, in a week, for that matter), it’s enough. I also want to accept that my writing routine and engagement might just look different in harder seasons of life, and that’s okay. Every paragraph is progress. Every list gets me closer to reconnection. Every thought is movement.
“Sometimes rest is the most productive thing you can do.” —Nanea Hoffman
So, if you’re in a similar place (for whatever reason), let’s go slow. Let’s take our time while we heal and manage our lives. I recently wrote a poem, and although it isn’t much, it’s something, and it’s helped me feel more like myself again. I’d like to share one part of it here. This is an excerpt from a piece titled “Denial”.
I wrote songs in D minor || Wept and called them love
I held a viper in my hands || Imagined it a dove
So now, I’ll extend the invitation to you. Write something today. A line, a feeling, a thought that’s been sitting with you. If you can’t summon inspiration for even these, that’s okay. I’m finding myself there many days right now, too. But please, try. Go for a walk and jot down observations, sit at a cafe and imagine what people are talking about, or pull out an old piece and rewrite it. Anything. No matter how small, take whatever thoughts pop into your head and turn them into words. If you do this, I’d love to share in it with you. You can send it to me here, and know that you’ve got me in your corner as you venture back into creativity.
Happy writing, and happy healing.
