One of the symptoms of approaching nervous breakdowns is the belief that one's work is terribly important. If I were a medical man, I should prescribe a holiday to any patient who considered his work important. - Bertrand Russell
They say in the blogging world that you shouldn't stop writing for a while. "Your readers simply won't be there when you come back," is what I've heard.
But a break, my friends, is precisely the thing I need. I've been in a strange place mentally, and I've been there for quite a while. And I'd like--actually, I crave--a good step back, from everything.
"Like a life sabbatical?" my sister asked. Yes. Like a life sabbatical.
I've had a few months of wondering and wandering, and then this past week, a time of real malaise. Now I'm itchy with a restlessness that I've been fending off for nearly a year, and so yes, I think it's time to pursue a break.
Because I do weird things in this frame of mind. Yesterday I chopped three inches off my hair, without quite realizing I was doing it. One moment, long hair. The next: well, not so long. (Or even. Hmm.) I had to put down the scissors and back away, because who knows what else I might do? Turn my Dickens collection into a series of paper cutouts? (Interesting idea, though.)
So. I'm off in search of real rest, in search of beauty, in search of good reading. I want to write aimlessly, without a vulture sitting on my shoulders, snarking at me over the usefulness of every word. (Yes there are vultures at my desk. Aren't there some at yours?)
I'm taking a break from blogging too. I'll come back in mid-August, which, I know, is kind of a long break from a blog. But I'm taking courage from others who have had breaks as well: habit is on summer vacation after all, so ... there you go. They always seem so wise and savvy.
I'm off to put my pieces back together. And I promise you this: when I come back mid-August, I'll come back with things to say.