How do you know if you’ve broken a rib – and, if you have, does it even benefit you to know that? I don’t think I’ve broken my rib, but I did feel something pop when I was leaning over the side of my bed to pick my laptop up off the floor. This is the second time in a month, and both times have involved a bed (although 90 percent of my life revolves around beds, so there’s nothing special there). If I have broken it, this would be karma for making light of my mum breaking her foot back in August! Trust me to break my rib the moment I reach the intersection of inspiration and motivation and finally decide to be productive and write something.
I started blogging in 2002, and before that I kept a diary from age 8. I’ve always had this need to indulge myself and produce writing, but I haven’t been writing a lot lately – in fact, you could say, I haven’t written anything in ten years. That’s not true, I have written the odd song or blog post, but the majority of my writing has been in those sporadic things called tweets that we’ve become all too familiar with. Ironic, that in sharing more writing than I’ve ever posted before, because of its short form nature, it had zapped me of my desire and passion to write. And I said to myself I wasn’t going to make this big song and dance about it, and preach that I’m better than everyone else, or that I feel less stressed, because it actually has been more stressful, not having this familiar, narcissistic habit to fall back on. This outlet of well-meaning but disingenuous validation and intimacy I would turn to as a means of boosting or stabilising my mood. For what once was a genuine interaction had turned into doing it for the sake of keeping up with everyone else. It wasn’t a decision I even made of my own accord, but I used it as a means to cut the cord. And by acting on that rib-not-breaking impulse of picking up my laptop to write when the urge strikes me, instead of when boredom consumes me, here I am saying I do feel better sharing my words like this once again.