I walk this path alone

With Him by my side

At the moment we are scaling darkness

It has felt dangerous at times and deadly

But now, the inertia is like something that must be accepted.

I don’t want to go outside. I want to ‘curl up’ – like a wounded animal and protect myself. I want to solve problems by writing them down. I want to expand from a tight resistant nucleus

Sometimes I worry. It’s all so cerebral and introspective. Can I trust what I’m drawn to?

My ‘inner critic’ is vicious. She reads what I’ve written and hands it back to me ‘no thanks’

But still I have to do this. Even though getting lyrics out of me is like squeezing a dried up lemon.

I have to do this. It’s my highest joy.

My battered mind rarely engages with metaphor or the symbolic even though my who life is lived through symbol

And at the moment I have this feeling that I’m trapped aimlessly inside a dark muddy hole and somehow I have to find my way out. I’ve scanned the area so many times for inspiration and each time I hear myself say ‘you know what this looks like. Do you really need to do this again?’

I have tried a number of ways to master my environment but each time i fall down. ‘no it’s not possible. I don’t have the wherewithal and the brain power.’ It has to be possible. I have to get out.

Or maybe writing like this is like mining for gems across different landscapes. Maybe I’ll mine an entire area and then finally strike rich

I feel there is absolute value to continuing.