Recently I spent some time writing. No shock I’m sure, but this was different. This was pen and paper. Sure that is not surprising either, although my time with a pen is generally limited beings my wrists don’t hold up too long. I had to write, I had to smell the paper and feel the tip of the pen glide across the smooth white striped surface. It called to me.
To begin with people write for different reasons and of course we have different mediums we prefer to compose with. Writing to me has always been a sense of relief, a way to share my heart, a way to try to help and impact others but mostly an art that I call my own.
For quite a long time I chose not to write because I knew it would never measure up to the almighty expectations put out there by the unseen writing ghosts. I had the privilege of studying so much about English, Linguistics and Literature. One of the authors that I got familiar with wrote a small section in one of his more noteworthy pieces. In a twist, something that I knew in my heart, he wrote that a true writer should not go to school and study only to find that they have destroyed their own writing style.
I am still somewhat shy about what I write. I am still a bit concerned that some of my chaotic topics will be taken so far from what my intentions truly are. I had a recent experience that further pushed me into finding peace with my writing. Sure I could spend a bit less time writing for a small void in the web that I call my own, but why should I?
Why Should I?
Although I come from an area that generally has a strong opinion of counseling and mental illness, I’m finally comfortable saying out loud that yes, I sought care. I don’t regret it a bit, and I certainly am an advocate for people who are suffering any kind of illness to get help when needed.
In a recent encounter I was able to find something I had really never understood of myself. I tend to have little trouble reading and feeling other people in my life, but as with many people it is hard to see myself. After all one can not see the brain from which they are looking out from. In this I learned more about how my body dealt with depression.
It really is interesting to find something you never before really even knew was there. Finding that your emotions are so much more than your up days or your down days. Your emotions don’t have to be held captive by how your body is feeling, how it is fighting. Feelings are so vast, although physical pain or illness can effect those emotions, a person doesn’t have to feel sad or down because of that pain.
I’ve had help seeing that even in deep pain you can laugh, and despite how much it hurts to do so, it is worth it! I can laugh when I am down. I can cry when I am happy and not be ashamed. I have found myself in an explosion and seem to be learning a completely different way of feeling the world around me. I will admit that I am slightly overwhelmed.
Writing is something that is mine, it is my art, it is as much me as I am it. I will keep my writing style, thank you very much, and make it grow and shine. I have found new emotion in my writing. I have found new emotion in myself and the world around me. For a person who feels the world around her… it is incredible to find that in a new way I can be in touch with myself.