I always feel such a cathartic release after I write something. Sometimes the words flow out and at other times they have to be dragged out of my mind kicking and screaming. Never the less, writing has always been part of my life, whether it was read-worthy or not. I don’t always write to a specific audience. At times, I’m sure that I’m writing to myself or to God or maybe to an invisible counselor.
Sometimes the business and drudgery of life pulls me away from writing. But then again, its probably just the lack of available alone time. Either way, I find that weeks will pass without even a single word typed or handwritten until I can no longer stand to hold all these words in. I even keep a little ornate unlined notebook in my purse in case I need to write something profound or funny before I forget it. Typing is definitely efficient and fast, but nothing beats the exquisite feeling of a smooth flowing favorite pen against a blank sheet of paper!
At all times and in all activities, I have words bouncing around in my head forming themselves into one-liners or stories to be told. They piece themselves together in acts of reflection or self preservation. I have to write to find relief from the mounting noise in my brain! There is no other way to live, I’ve found. I haven’t done any public polls on this but I’m fairly certain not everyone has this happen to them – this desire and need to put their thoughts and words onto paper. Or maybe they do, they just keep their words wrangled up in their heads or imprisoned in the back of their minds bound up in tiny ropes.
I’m sure, at times, my lack of confidence keeps me from painting the paper with words. But, at other times, I think I just tire of seeing my own voice and thoughts in front of me – out there, so obvious and painful. Or maybe I am censoring myself? I’ve found that when I do without writing for a spell, its not just a lack of sensible things to write, but a fear of the power and ability to rock boats. When I’m really passionate about something or some “thing” has happened to rattle my cage, I step away from allowing what I really want to say become visible for fear of hurting someone or bringing myself to some harsh realization. I have missed so many wonderful opportunities by allowing this fear to censor my freedom to write. I must work on this, I’m sure. I’ve written some of these touchy subjects down into personal journals which I then promptly hide away. I know that later I could rip out the pages after the words have left my mind, but somehow, I’ve never been able to toss away my own writing even if its horrible. I’ve just gotten better at hiding the journals! Then it occurs to me that I won’t live forever and someone is going to find those painfully personal journals – oh my! I’ll think about that tomorrow, perhaps. But for now, I’ll keep them. Those old journals continue to teach me and show me how much I’ve grown over the years and how much I have to be thankful for.
Writing keeps me going. It gives me a away to express myself. Sometimes it gives me a much needed feeling of conversation. Being a stay at home and homeschooling mom, I don’t always have enough opportunities for intelligent and stimulating adult conversation. I miss talking and expressing my hopes, dreams and desires to an excellent listener – someone who “gets me” or at least tries (of course, my mom & at times my 19 year old daughter are professional when it comes to listening to me – thank the Lord for them!) Not that I’m discounting my husband, but sometimes a woman needs to be heard by another woman, right? So, in between all these days of my life, I’m sure I will continue to write – whether its typing a new entry into my blogs, scribbling some quick thoughts down in my tiny ornate purse notebook, or hiding in my quiet spot to pen a couple of pages in my journal that I hide away. I am a writer – probably always will be.