There is one thing, outside of motherhood, that brings me immense joy and fulfillment, and that is writing. But oddly enough, as much as I love to write, it does not always happen as I would like it to. I am currently sitting in my favorite coffee shop, coffee in had, earphones on with James Taylor playing softly in the background, I am ready to get my finger burn on, and…nothing.
I work all week with Saturdays in mind. It is the one day I am usually up early, in the zone, and ready to create. Writing on Saturday morning represents my escape from the mundane and burdensome aspects of life. It is my refuge and my creative outlet. I usually have something on my mind that is simmering and want to get it cooking, but today I am lost. Perhaps it is due to a lack of sleep and a stressful work week, or maybe I am putting too much pressure on myself to produce. Some would consider this hot and cold relationship with their craft a love-hate relationship, but I could never hate writing. That is exactly how much I love it.
My love affair with writing started as far back as grade school. I was overjoyed when tasked with a creative writing assignment. It usually entailed a few lines of description on a subject matter and included a large hand drawn picture. My favorite assignment was when we would create mini storybooks made out of craft paper. The clean pages and the opportunity to fill them with my own ideas and creativity was not only delightful, but somewhat magical. I was simply in heaven. The smell of crayons, construction paper, and the feel of a dull pencil scribbing on school paper sends me back in time. I think my mother still may have some of my first works hidden away in a box with all my precious memories from the days of yore.
My writing then moved on to book reports, which became more laborious and frustrating. It was then that I started to struggle with sorting through all the thoughts that were whirling around in my mind and placing them onto paper. I had so much to say, but did not know how to create a link to connect the relationship between the mind, pen and paper. The years during junior high were less creative and more grammar heavy, and this was the only time in my life that I rejected my secret joy. As I moved into high school and began to understand and experience new, strange, and intense emotions, including falling in love, I picked up the pen once again and starting to write poetry and journaling. It was my outlet for when I felt misunderstood or when I needed to escape the overwhelming teenage years.
During high school and college, despite my love for writing, I was very much into science and the workings of the human body. My goal was to graduate from college and move on to medical school. I often thought of becoming a pathologist or study psychiatry, but after a tumultuous first year of college, I quickly changed majors. To the shock of many, I chose English Literature as my second choice. I had a dear friend who knew me very well and advised me to take a couple of English courses to see how I liked it. I soon found I had a knack for analyzing literature, I enjoyed writing and it gave me a creative outlet that I unknowingly missed and needed. After one semester I was hooked and the rest is history.
Writing, for me, is a relationship between the mind and body. The voice in my head is my muse. This muse does not always speak in words, rather in ideas and emotions. Sometimes it is in fragments or a quick flash, other times it is a blatant idea or a series of self-dialogue. It took me many years to learn how to foster and nurture the voice and ideas in my head and be able to translate them into words that could properly represent these emotions and thoughts. Actually, I am still learning. With anything, the more you practice, the easier it becomes.
Much like a spiritual medium, who receives messages through images, sensations, emotions, and thoughts, I do feel my ideas and writings are generated much the same. At times it can take me hours to compose a couple paragraphs onto paper, or it could be a matter of minutes to write an entire page. There are instances when I have had every intention of writing on a specific topic, but when I sit down to focus, the subject matter will change in a flash. I will then become overwhelmed with the need to write on a separate idea. Do I sound like I am a little off my rocker? Don’t worry, some may say the jury is still out on that one.
Although I currently do not write as my profession, it is just as important to me as if it was financially sustaining me. Writing is more than just a hobby for me. It is a cathartic tool, a creative outlet, and a source of pleasure that I require. As I am writing down my feelings, I may have a revelation on a thought or begin to see a situation in a different light. I often feel it is a mental workout that is needed periodically. Writing provides me the opportunity to purge my thoughts and empty the chaos in my mind. It settles me and make me feel whole. Writing is my love and it is what I am passionate about. As in my last post, I am many things, and my identity may be fluid and ever changing, but my identity as a writer and my joy of writing is at my core; it is who I am and what I do.
Have a magical day and take time to embrace whatever brings you joy!
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