Give in, Give up

 Sometimes when I sit down to write I feel like my body is wound tight, like all the doorways that should be open to creative thought are sealed shut. My brain refuses to engage in the kind of thinking I need – the abstract, reflective, slow & ponderous, weighty, wonder-of-words contemplation that sucks you into each moment and holds you there so you can ignore everything else going on around you. Instead I'm flitting around spasmodically from thought to thought to thought, anxiety to anxiety to anxiety. I just can't. sit. still. Mentally.

It seems like writing ideas always come to me when I'm in the middle of something else, when I couldn't possibly stop and write. Maybe that's because I'm not stressing out about writing at that moment – there's no pressure. My head is relaxed. Whatever.

I think I maybe need to accept that I'm failing at writing. And it's entirely my own fault. Am I going to do something about it? Or am I going to give in, give up?