Radio Silence

So…what to say about why I haven’t posted in a few months?  I could point to everything from family drama that ended with a relative in rehab to the standard-issue workload that comes with adulting. Maybe throw in toiling over a final edit on my novel and some good old-fashioned writer’s block to make it an airtight case.

But while all of the above events may be true, they’re still excuses. And if I championed them, I’d be creating an absurd rationale for why I’m not doing the one thing that makes me feel the most alive: putting words on a page.

So, why do we go silent on our life’s passions?

Sometimes it’s for a good reason, like the need for genuine introspection. Taking a brief step back from what we love so we can see it with fresh eyes and return to it with renewed zeal.

But all too often, that short break turns into a self-sabotaging sabbatical. Excuses are reframed as “reasons” why we can’t get back in the game.

It’s been too long.

I’m out of practice.

I’ve lost momentum.

I don’t even know where to start.

Those toxic rationales enable us to politely excuse ourselves from doing what feeds our souls in favor of the things that – while perhaps necessary – feed only our practical routines.

We all have to take care of business. And because we’re good, responsible grownups, we buckle down. The work gets done, the groceries get bought and the bills get paid. All the boxes checked.

Except the one that didn’t even make the list: the dormant desire that is never truly silent.

But it is stealthy.

You’ll think you’ve successfully buried – or simply forgotten – it. That is, until it chooses any number of ways to slyly remind you of its existence:

You see a book you could have easily written.

A canvas you could’ve painted circles around.

A dish you could’ve cooked WAY better than that stupid, screaming TV chef.

And the only difference between you and those artists and creators is that when life got noisy, they didn’t lie back quietly and allow it to drown out what they loved.

They turned up their own volume, ignored the cacophony of “shoulds” and “have-tos” and pushed their passions to the forefront.

You can do the same. So can I.

And once we do, we’ll find that our dreams are very forgiving.

Just like a close friend who slides off our radar, all it takes is one moment to reach out and reestablish that connection to our God-given desires. To remember why the love was there in the first place. And to forget how long we’ve been apart.

Let’s break the silence. It’s time.

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  • Reply Richard dahlgren August 22, 2018 at 6:38 pm

    As per usual MH…good stuff. How’s the final edit going? You back in the game? Good stuff happening to me. I’ll email you…❤️…Dick.

    • Reply Mary DeRosa Hughes August 23, 2018 at 8:46 am

      Wow…I will reply to your email, but let me publicly congratulate you on the amazing sale of your painting AND getting a literary agent!! SO happy for you, my friend…no one deserves it more. ❤️

  • Reply Howard Fishman August 22, 2018 at 8:52 pm

    Hi there. I’m sort of in the throes of what you’re describing, except I’ve fallen off the working cliff into so-called retirement and – even with lots of advanced planning- the obstacles remain, some of my own making and some from whoever is laughing above, watching me as I struggle to – once again – find my elusive voice. Reading your post was helpful and I thank you for it.

    • Reply Mary DeRosa Hughes August 23, 2018 at 8:43 am

      Hey, Howard! Thanks so much for sharing what you’re going through, and for your very kind comments about the post…so glad it hit home. Good to know I”m not the only one who grapples with “finding my voice.” Funny how we can write for years, and yet it still eludes us from time to time. But you are an amazing scribe, so it clearly never leaves you for very long! 🙂

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