I don’t really feel like writing, but here I am, and I’m writing. I haven’t written in months, so I’ll go ahead and apologize to my inner circle for having to listen to all the words that have been falling out of my mouth instead of making their way gracefully from my brain to my Macbook. I don’t feel like writing. I don’t feel like writing. But I’m writing anyway.

I’d love to say that my months of silence were the result of busy success and other fulfillment, but the last few months, though very exciting, have been a lot of me just having nothing to say. I’ve not done a ton of creative consuming, and I haven’t done much creative producing either. I wouldn’t dare suggest that what I’ve been going through recently is a direct result of not writing, but I imagine writing would help. So here I am. Writing. Even though I don’t feel like writing.

My mom knows me so well. When my internal downward spiral began she asked, “Have you been writing?” No. Why? It recently hit me like a ton of bricks. I was created to create. Made in the image of God, the ultimate creator, part of my purpose is to create, and when I’m not creating, I’m missing a huge part of who I was made to be. We’re not all writers. We’re not all “creative” types, with the connotations that go along, but we are all made in the image of God with the purpose of creating something meaningful in this temporary life we’ve been given. I’ve been stuck. I haven’t been moving forward. I haven’t been creating at all– not screenplays, not blogs, not music, not relationships, not paths to walk along with hope and purpose in this world. This idea got me thinking… If the power of creativity brings us closer to the original creation we are, what else brings us closer?

As I enter into this stage of emerging adulthood, I’m constantly reminded of myself as a child, maybe because I still feel like one. But I’m not the little weirdo that I used to be. Still weird, but lacking in a joy that used to come so easily. I can’t help but wonder if maybe we’re the closest we’ll ever be to God’s initial creation when we’re children. Innocent and hopeful, open and excited. Naked and unashamed.

I’m all about knowledge. I’m a self-described nerd, full of both extremely useful and utterly useless information. Knowledge is power. But is power joy? Were we created for power, or were we created for joy? Before you make any assumptions about my ideas concerning education legislation, understand that I’m talking about personal fulfillment, and thriving in a broken world– not shunning the knowledge and tools that have helped us to survive thus far, but in our personal lives, seeking joy over power. Going back to a mindset that wasn’t shaped around what we had learned to be right or wrong. Where we were more concerned with simply making a new friend and not controlling the people around us. Where we felt secure that our needs would be met even though we somehow knew we couldn’t meet those needs ourselves. Where we yearned to create. Where we weren’t concerned with comparisons because there wasn’t yet a bar set for “normalcy.”

I remember moments like those. I remember a little girl who shot hoops in the driveway and didn’t care if she missed, or if anyone saw her miss. A little girl who wrote songs she though might finally end racism once and for all in her rural north Georgia town. A little girl who practiced monologues in front of her mirror for hours without even considering if that boy in homeroom had texted her. Why did an 11 year old have a cell phone? The world may never know. But I miss that girl.

So I’m writing. I’m creating whether people are watching or not. I don’t really feel like it. But I’m writing.

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