I just haven’t been posting and sometimes it feels like writer’s block. And I suppose I’ve been holding back – because this platform shouldn’t be my journal. After all, this is a blog – not a notebook of my private thoughts. Right? Agree? Disagree?
Well, this sounds reasonable, except my life has normally been an open book, especially when I’ve faced insurmountable odds. To put it in the most succint of terms -for me- writing is breathing, so what the “block” is wrong?
Writing is the glue that has held my heart together through all my years. The ability to reflect has kept my head above water, even though I’ve never learned to swim- my life preserver has been my faith- writing has brought me nearer still.
To write is to experience transformation. The ability to be changed is the result of knowing you cannot be limited by your experiences themselves. Sharing is the moment I can let it go and words mutate into something I couldnt have imagined – restorative knowledge.
So what gives? I have been writing and not posting because it hurts too (enter explicative here) much. Its like having your insides scraped during an annual pap exam. This past week my doctor said, you look nervous. And without hesitation I said, “ever since I was molested and was examined by a doctor invasively at 14 years old, I cannot help but feel nervous in an exam room. No matter how much time passes, I am still traumatized.”
Writing is figuring out that pain is temporary, and remembering that you are gonna survive.
Writing is a vehicle to transporting your thoughts to the field of dreams. There, I have found peace in the valley, daringly, even in the midst of doubt- somehow writing perpetuates confidence to begin again in reconciliation- with myself, others and God.
Writing has always been a way to create sketches in order to paint the masterpiece of knowing what matters most. There are linear thoughts that become twisted and knotty between the spine of my story but that doesnt mean my life has less value and that’s the chapter I’ve never been able to write until now.
How I learned to love myself.