Writing is an interesting mental process

One of the assignments I was asked to work on, as part of a job interview, is to write on sustainability, disregarding the final format of my essay. I was even given free hands on topic and size, something anyone would hope for to let creativity and critical sense flow. Do I want to prepare a newsletter, or a short novel? a translation work or a critical review of an existing project? I am free.

I left the meeting with sparkles in my eyes and in my brain, so happy I had finally met people that could inspire me that much  in a one-hour-long meeting only. I sat on a plane, mentally preparing a list of topics i could address. I thought it would take two weeks to sit down and think, to wander around in a familiar urban environment with a notebook in my hand, a pen in the other, and to finally express myself.

These two weeks of creativity however changed into three continuous weeks of worries, prayers and sorrow, and sustainability was forgotten to leave its core place to another important thing in life: family. I have lost my sister, I have lost a piece of my heart with it. I have burried creativity along with many emotions to give room to feelings i did not know, allowing me to face a reality that i had possibly denied, head up.

I have lacked sleep, I have pushed myself to the edge where sleeping equals resting (which was not as frequent as I had hoped). I have been reading, a lot, to reach this limit, I have left the light on long.

It's been a month now, and things have slowly started to change. I do sleep, and I do rest. I read because I want to, not because I feel like denying reality. The biggest change is that I manage to wake up at night, with some writing ideas that i forget of course in the morning. But I think, I look, I read, I observe, I register information.

I am back on track.