Lately, I’ve felt restless. I don’t know how else to describe it.
I’ve been ridiculously busy. Several people and groups have asked me to come speak to them on various topics from Scrivener to writing, and I consider myself quite lucky to have been asked. Had fun each time, connecting with authors of every ability and genre. Also just went to MileHicon. I really do love meeting people, finding out who they are, what makes them tick, why they write, what they write. At times, this conflicts with my introverted tendencies and I hit a wall. When that happens, I tend to become a hermit, hiding away in a cave of my own creation.
That hasn’t really happened in a while.
Maybe that’s a sign of growth?
Which brings me back to this restlessness. Like I’m moving for the sake of moving, not particularly in any one direction.
Need to shake it.
Not sure how.
A thought popped into my head recently, not exactly a new one. It’s bounced around a few times before, come and gone like the ebb and flow of the tides – I’m weird. My family has always said so. I like that ‘space shit’ no one else gets. S’why I sought out comic book stores and conventions and conferences where like-minded people meet and talk about these things I love. Our community throws around words like ‘tribe’, and it really fits. Better than I probably ever realized before. I have found my tribe, and I feel better when I’m with them.
Maybe this restlessness is coming down from a high. Being with my people, my tribe, lifts me up. Coming back to ‘the real world’ brings me down.
I don’t know.