heaps of

The tightness is unfurling, even though I'd believed it had begun long ago, it wasn't this. 

I see now  that I've told myself stories about my associations and connections because the solitary road is lonely, plain and simple. I've held onto my stories bound to a rose-colored scenario with slow shrinking walls, boxed misconceptions painted pretty colors.

I've finally, truly, reached a point of acceptance about where I stand and where I think I'd like to go. I've begun to make peace with the demons that have haunted me these last years since we landed in California, and while I'm not sure what I'm doing, or going to do, for the first time, I'm not stressed about it. 

I really am ok with not knowing because I know that it isn't endless. In a dark period combined with a creative slump, one never knows what the outcome will be. 

One hit wonder? Burned out yet again? Questions I've asked myself on more than one occasion these past months. Instead I've learned to not look too far ahead. Today is a good place to begin. What am I going to get done today? 

And whatever it is, it's plenty.