Unstuck

She stopped writing, or caring about writing, for a long time. The manuscript sat in a box, finished and edited, for almost a year. She didn't care about the book anymore. She didn't really care much about anything. Before then, she was so sure of herself. She was confident in where she was, what she had and where she was going. She was confident in her words, both written and spoken. For a long time, she didn't care what other people thought about her ways, as long as she was doing the right thing and not hurting anyone. Now, she can make excuses all she wants. She can blame it on the move, or blame it on others, but what really happened was she got stuck. She stopped appreciating the amazing life she was leading, and got greedy. Not greedy for materialistic things, she'd never really been that way, just greedy for more...or just...different. Things were too easy for too long. No big problems. No huge worries. She was bored. She started moving her wheels, and everything was going along fine until she got stuck in the mud. She didn't call for help because she didn't like to ask. The more she tried to move, the more stuck she became and the deeper she went. She had forgotten about the rope. It was right there. Right outside the mud. She had never really used the rope much before, and didn't know if it could hold the weight, but when she finally grabbed onto it, that rope pulled her right out of the sticky pit onto the soft, dry, sweet-smelling grass. The rope let her wipe her muddy face on it, and while she cleaned herself, she realized that had it not been there she would have drown. She took a gigantic breath and sucked in all of the wonderfulness of her world and the rope led her away from the pit. Does she still have dirty feet? Heck yeah! Will they always be dirty? Nope. And they will most likely walk through a few more tiny mud puddles along the way, because she never really has been one to keep her feet clean for too long, but she plans on keeping them clean as much as possible and never going in past her ankles again. Do you know where the rope is now? She does. It's right there. Right now. She is in love with writing again, and she is in love with her amazing life again, and it is all because of the magnificent rope.

What's her rope?
What's yours?