Writing is like meditation to me, it restores clarity and maintains calm in my life. Since I started studying Law/Criminology and Justice, almost a month ago, my writing time has been sucked up, and this makes me antsy.
With a (now dreaded) trip to the UK in the midst, I have no choice but to get ahead of the workload in order to take time off. The study is fascinating, and I could spend hours in the Law Libraries reading cases, but a sense of crazy comes over me when I spend too much time away from my writing.
It’s not unlike an addiction…although, I’ve not really ever suffered one, unless you include caffeine, oh, and I used to smoke cigarettes back in the day when I was modelling and too scared to put food in my mouth for fear of gaining a gram. I imagine it to be somewhat similar to the craving of going too long between cups, or inhaling a stick of nicotine.
This new path of study I have embarked on resembles a sketch atop a once perfect picture of who I am and where I saw my life heading. Yet, all the while I’ve been trying to work out why I insisted on fixing what wasn’t broken. I guess what I failed to realise was that my career choice was not the part of me that was in need of fixing.
I lost sight of me and what makes my heart sing.
Last weekend I thought I had all the answers. I was floating on cloud nine, and not even a week later, the carpet was ripped from beneath me. If my feet had been planted firmly on the path that was meant for me, the affect would’ve been a mere ripple and not the tsunami I’ve experienced over the past two days.
Writing is a part of me and I won’t ever lose sight of that again.