Is not writing, still writing?

I have not written many words in weeks.

I am not sure why.

I feel like all the words have already been written. Sometimes I just am at a loss for words and am searching for myself.

I went to a creativity retreat several weekends ago. I wrote the most honest and for me, heart wrenching paragraph of my life. I felt all the depth of ache I had not wanted to feel about my relinquishment to adoption. I wrote the words.

Then, the words were gone

It was as if my a heart stopped. The creative drive to write ended and I closed the door on the book I was carefully crafting, on the blog I so tenderly cultivated and the multitude of planned writings waiting to happen have been thrown away.

I am not sure how to continue.

I am weary from processing my full body experience of adoption.

The past 568 days since I found and first spoke to my birth mother have been filled with the highest highs and the lowest lows.

I just wish that I could just freeze time and float until my anxiety retreats and regulation returns to my dysregulated brain life.

But, knowing I have to wake each day to serve others motivates my movements and supports mastery of my mind.

I am so strong. I amaze myself. I can do hard things.

Words will return, but for now, I care for a brain that has finally said, “enough…we need rest.”

There will be light again soon.