This is a letter to my creativity coach Sara
Before our call I always give her a headsup.
.

Dear Sara,

It is not an easy time, and yet technically it is by far the easiest is has been in years.
The euphoria from last summer has not made it into the new season, and the last two weeks were even marked by a darkness that I was no longer familiar with.
It feels like I should be doing some mending, some reconnecting to the insights I had this summer which I wrote down, particularly for times like this.
So why am I not?
I do not know.

I am typing this, and the answers present themselves immediately though, I notice. 
That there is no not knowing of any sorts!
That I know exactly why I am so apathic;
Because my new businesses are not based on writing or blogging. If I were fully booked I would have zero time to write, and only an hour a day for marketing related writing.
And LS Harteveld is not included in my workhours either.

My new businesses are great in theory! I have things to sell, I feel professional, and they’re real businesses.
And it feels like a thin line (meaning they feel similar) between writing something to build an audience ->for a business<- and writing to build an audience period.
Or even simply “and writing *point*”.

The number of hours necessary to write an article, in particular when research is involved, which it almost always is;
There is just no way of justifying that from the purpose of building a business.

But I think my lethargy and my absolute obsession to squeeze all my business duties within a 40 hour workweek- and that is including social hours, because I need 3 hours a day, every day, for housekeeping, my duties for the neighborhood animals and yoga.
During summer when I was on my high, I let my whole self-care fall by the wayside (I did care for the animals!), and I felt so absolutely horrific about not being in touch with my body, nor with my house.
It was a mess!

Okay, I have no idea at which point of the story I am right now, to be honest.
But suffice to say, that as brilliant as I felt about finally understanding what my new businesses were going to be, I dread the execution now that we’re in THAT stage.
I dread anything, that is NOT me writing.

AND living a life worth writing about!

So the answer to how I can feel better is by stepping into my WRITER boots,  and my storyteller boots, more firmly, and letting the business side just take care of itself.
I have a business, but I am not the business.
I am a writer.

So that bit is solved I think.
But there is another dullness inside of me. A numb feeling where I would expect light and happiness, because I have come so far!
It’s about sex and men and letting go of the idea that I need a man in my life. Just the thought of spending a minute searching, dating or in any way investing, in the process of finding a new lover?
No way!

It probably happened at exactly the same moment when I mapped out my roster of maximum client hours, and needing 3 hours a day for myself to feel human;
And realizing there was no time for writing.

From there it was a very easy choice to accepting I will never invest in men again, and that the Lord will just have to organize them appearing at my doorstep, or on my Timeline, because that’s the furthest I’m willing to travel.

It felt incredibly mature to let this desire for a new lover go.
And either way, I had little time to think about it because I was fighting tooth and nail for time in my schedule to WRITE.
Something had to give, and it sure as hell wasn’t going to be my last chance at writing something beyond the 2200 character Instagram limit.

To not let my whole sexuality dry out, the desire for men was replaced with the resolution to nurture and develop my femininity, my receptivity.
Including healing massages, a cleaned up diet, and a peaceful energy. 

But there was also a deliberate intention, a vision of developing a feminine business, where the love and effort I once reserved for men, was now gently directed to more profitable waters.
Where every word was written for the world, not for him (whomever he may be).

Emails are for romantics.
Femme biz owners write for the world, and I intended to live according to this rule religiously.

Until I stopped feeling and a dullness set in.
And I m not even curious to what I wrote down last summer to protect my inner-light, although I do remember that I said to myself I needed to start treating writing as a business too.
That that was the only way to make it a priority… And I know I have not done that. I have treated writing like a luxury after a 40 hour workweek.

In the movie Basic Instinct, Catherine Tramell breaks up with detective Nick Curran, after she has finished writing the book about the detective. That same night she returns to him, after she learns from the news that his partner has been murdered.
“I can’t allow myself to care about you,” she explains the breakup.
“I can’t allow myself to care.” 

That resembles how I feel the closest:
I have broken up with my writing, by planning my whole week about making money like a normal person. Just like Catherine disposed of Nick when he was no longer necessary to write her novel, because it was finished.

Nick enters his apartment after a horrific day where first his lover has broken up with him, then his partner gets murdered, then he shoots his other lover the psychiatrist because he thinks she has a gun and has killed his partner;
Then he finds out she’s only holding a set of keys.
Then the police find out the psychiatrist was actually the killer, Nick is cleared of all charges and free to go.

He opens the door to his apartment and walks in, not even bothering to turn on the lights.
“Hi,” Catherine says, from the shadows. She has been waiting for him.
“I heard about what happened. On TV.”
Nick nods his head, his face is dark with grief.
“I can’t allow myself to care about you,” Catherine says. “I can’t allow myself, to care.”
“I don’t want to do this,” she starts pacing the room, frantically. “I lose everybody. I don’t want to lose you.”
He steps towards her and holds the sobbing Catherine close to him.
“I don’t want to lose you,” she repeats.

He doesn’t answer, but the love-making that follows shows his answer:
She’s not gonna lose him.