Writer's block

For the longest time, I blogged. Now I'm not. Wish I had something profound to say about my writer's block. I don't. I'm afraid, really afraid, that this is as good as it gets. Because my writing is not going so well. Understatement of the year. 

It's weird, really. Because it's never happened to me. I overwrite. I can write one story 10 ways and love them all equally. I can write crap and show it to my husband who thinks it's awesome. Believe me, I've tried. But I can't. I can't journal, write stories or get a cohesive, intelligent thought from brain to blank sheet — either typing or writing. 

When I quit my job in early 2012, I felt like God wanted me to write about my experience. To share it. To record it. So I did. Even though it was the most uncomfortable thing I have ever written about. 

So much more has happened. God has moved in even bigger ways. My faith has grown. He has shown up when I was barely holding on. When I was about to give up. Time and time again. 

And when I try to record it, get it on paper...my words don't come. I really, really want to write again. Anything. I will even joyfully blog about the crazy world I live in, where my family can't figure out how to get groceries one day and the next, a friend gives us food. A world where I screw up, go before God and feel so dumb. But I repent, and He forgives, pouring grace and mercy on me like never before. A world where my family is honest, authentic and seeking (and offering) forgiveness. A world where I'm sure nobody understands, and I must be secretly considered the "crazy lady" by most of my friends and all of my family. 

But the words. They don't come. So many times, I've sat down here with my blog open, my journal blank and prayed for the right words. There are none. Or what I am thinking isn't what I'm writing. It's awful. Like this place here, where I am sure this very blog entry is cursed. Horrible. Nonsensical. 

Why. I'm not sure if it's God, perhaps wanting me to experience Him in new and different ways. To put down my pen and come to worship and know Him in new ways. (I have. I have loved it, even as I've longed to write.) Or if it's me, scared to be as raw as somedays I want to be. Fearful that when my opinion hits the paper, "crazy" will be the kindest thing people think of when they hear my name. 

I'm terrified I might write a lot more like this. Even more, I am scared of continuing in this place where I am not writing. At all. I don't like it here. 

The journal thing is really not working out. So I'm coming back here. To blog. Mostly for me, a return to myself, but for anyone who cares to tune in. 

Because there is so much I want to write. If only I can find the words.