"I write to give myself strength. I write to be the characters that I am not. I write to explore all the things I'm afraid of." Joss Whedon
Words used to pour out of me. I remember the day I first learned how to write the alphabet. It fascinated me, the way these little slashes and stab marks were literally magic - I was finally able to take the stories and characters out of my head and place them deliberately, clearly, onto a tangible surface where I could read them as many times as I liked and change them however I wished. These words became sentences, and the sentences became paragraphs and the paragraphs turned into pages, and out of nothing something was born - a story. Stories made me feel - they broke the walls around my heart that I had had since I could remember. Sure, I usually built them up again, but day after day, that little pencil in my journal made me vulnerable and thoughtful and kind. It eased my suffering, my fear, my outrage. It gifted me with my first tastes of creative and intellectual freedom - the freedom that comes with a mind that breaks away from other peoples' thoughts and beliefs.
I have known since always that I wanted to be a writer. No matter what happened in my life, I knew this was my ultimate and final calling. I suppose my younger self would be proud of me in some ways - I am a full time writer and journalist and a published author. Most of my work enables me to research and write about things that help people (Ayurveda and Yoga), so that aspect of it is fulfilling too. I am not a particularly selfless person, but if I know what I'm spending my time writing about isn't going to inspire someone to greater things, it quickly loses its appeal.
But the last two years have been a little stagnant for me in terms of writing. I have been focused on going to school, getting my AA so I could get the heck out of Clermont, spending time with my family and probably thinking way too much about the past. It's the thinking about my past addiction that has kept me from writing - but not only my obsession with my past, but ultimately my fear of it. Plenty of lies have come from my mouth, but I am actually rather proud to say I have NEVER lied in writing - I am incapable of it, and I know this. So picking up writing again every day, journaling, short stories, poetry, my novel, letters... it's inevitable that it's going to open up a Pandora's box of who-knows-what. I am afraid to feel what's in there, mostly because I fear that there's nothing good and it will be all pain that will consume me and I'll finally have to admit that I am a horrible person with no chance of goodness. Dark, right?
Intellectually of course I know that that doesn't make much sense - if one of my friends were to say these exact words to me I would tell them "What?? You're a wonderful person! Everyone in this world is innately good and so are you." But when it comes to myself, I am not usually so kind. In my own head, I am never enough and I don't really have any hope of ever being enough. My Sponsor talks a lot to me about learning how to love myself. It just seems like such a foreign, abstract concept, much like the idea of God.
But I can't deny that it's writing that always brings me back to feeling like home in my body, on this planet, and in touch with whatever Higher Power that's waiting for me in my heart. It's writing that gives me strength and softens the walls I build up around me. It doesn't make sense for me to let fear keep me from doing one of the few things on this earth that has never felt wrong and has never left me.
I haven't posted on this blog in so long, mostly because I feel like I don't have anything to say that anyone would want to read. But it makes me feel better anyway. It makes me feel less isolated, more at home in the world... expressing myself gives me courage and makes me feel good about myself, like I'm being truly honest. So here I am, writing something probably useless... but hopefully someone out there will read this and be inspired to write or paint or sing or dance or quit a job they hate or love someone they've been afraid to fall for - even if it's their own self. Because really we don't have very much time in this life - I feel that way, even though I totally believe in reincarnation. Each day that passes is one day closer to death... I don't mean that in a morbid way, because death is just another adventure, but what I mean is... there's no time to waste.