This is by far the hardest week of blogging for NaBloPoMo.
I thought the first couple of weeks were difficult because I had to work all day and some nights and get the kids to bed and then do some chores and then, finally then, I could plop down to write. Sifting through topics, settling in to something, getting to bed late, but feeling like I accomplished a task is a good thing to feel. Sure, not all posts were great or profound; nonetheless complete.
But this week, I am off work and traveling and don’t have all my topics and tools and timing at my disposal and find myself grasping at straws. Mostly because I’m tired. Last night I sat in front of the computer and almost burst into tears.
The best part of this laborious emotional rollercoaster is realizing that forcing myself to write every day brings me a small punch of joy which actually feeds upon itself. I feel less like I have to hoard stories or topics because more are always waiting. I’m in a constant state of gestation. And thankfully it comes without morning sickness, bloating, maternity clothes, breastfeeding or double strollers.