Inner Space

I don't even know what I am doing typing in on this new post page, this time of the night, again, more than a year later.

Although I have been careless about this blog, it has been nagging me. It's one of those things that happen to me. I need closure and I do not like closure. That keeps things hanging, nagging, uncertain. I’m not indecisive, in fact a bit too quick to decide. And somewhere last year I decided I had had enough of indulging myself in the romance of sorrow, in the beauty of pain and I needed to get my act together.
Of course it was not as deliberate as it sounds now, but it was deliberate enough.
So 2010 saw a lot of changes. Firstly I decided to upgrade my practice. I took some risks, threw caution to the wind (after much thinking of course) and set my income back by atleast 5 years.

I did all of the above by starting a psychotherapy center. I called it “Inner Space”. I got myself a brand new place on rent (just about a big room’s space). The rent is sky high as are all the rents in this city but I made the place up with love. I spent 2 years worth of savings and bought some old wood furniture, some nice blinds, got branding designing done, hired two lovely dedicated assistant psychologists and am all set to now experiment and do a whole lot of new stuff that I always felt there was a need for but not many were doing.

I moved into my new office just two weeks ago. I love sitting there, working there and when I think about my sunk finances… the consolation is that even if I fail, I will always atleast know I tried, I learnt and I faced my fear.

Last year has been one of choices. Of choosing action over thought and thrilling instability over peaceful stagnation.
Which brings me back to why this blog suffered. Not being able to write much, I guess, is collateral damage that comes from this variety of whirlwind action. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to do justice again to this space. But I do miss being here and I do miss being able to write, like I used to….
I am hoping though, I would develop some new kind of writing potential eventually, which could be happier and still beautiful…