She asked, “What stifles you”?
That’s a good question. Am I stifled? My first reaction is nothing stifles me. But I guess the real deal is that no outside source stifles me. I’m pretty direct and don’t hold back much. And who would actually try to stifle me? I don’t think many would try.
These days I’m tending to stifle myself. I’m not being very successful but I’m trying. I have paid a pretty hefty price for not curtailing thoughts and comments so now I’m trying to take that extra second before I speak, write or act. Is it helping? In some areas, yes. I’m not use to holding back so I find myself with missteps, but yes, it’s a better way to be.
Then I sit down to write.
I am blessed the stifle switch seems to automatically turn off and all the words and thoughts appear.
There is a force field protecting my story telling from the restraints I now heap on my real life.
We are told the more exposed the writing the better. Well at least for the first draft. Then the revisions and edits can fix and hide the episodes no one has the right to read about. There needs to be secrets.
If I can keep writing about everything and not hold back I should be fine.
Then maybe publish under a pen name. We all know I would never do that.
But back to the real world… stifle what I say and do? Yes, it is probably the best option. There have been so many times I have gotten myself in trouble. Maybe it’s time I learned that my happiness might just depend on the reins I should gladly put on myself.
So there it is… being me stifles me. It seems like a very sad state.
And a little ironic side note… this is not the post I wanted to use this week. This was my second choice. Yes, I stifled myself.