I feel like I’m neglecting my writing.
Perhaps that is because I have neglected it, horribly neglected it.
I used to write all the time. Nothing very good, but yet, I still wrote. Now, I seem to only write when I’m upset or frustrated or angry and need to vent my frustrations to someone who will not throw it back in my face later.
That’s the beauty of a notebook. It accepts all your feelings, without offering any insincere platitudes. It doesn’t need you to censor your words. It doesn’t have feelings that may be hurt. It is the ultimate good listener.
Often I find that writing helps me to sort through my feelings, to discover new ways to look at things, to calm me.
Writing is my therapy.