Returning to Writing
I take long breaks from writing. Usually these are unintentional breaks when life demands my time be used in other places. Or when I feel unready to do another layer of healing, I resist the writing. When I am in resistance, my inner dialogue with writing can sound like a gentle, ‘nah, not yet.’ The wise one inside hears this request and patiently waits while I numbly watch too much television or busy myself with unnecessary closet cleaning.
When I am not writing, I am worse for the wear. Writing is not just about productivity and deadlines for me. Writing is how I connect with my soul. It is a version of meditation that grounds me and helps me feel connected. I have always romanticized writing and the writing life. The truth is, it can be hard work. I wrestle with my demons of doubt and self consciousness. And yet, when I allow myself to sit down with pen and paper or open up my trusty laptop to a fresh blank document page, all feels well, or at the very least, better.
My writing life started in earnest after my husband died. I learned early in my grief that purging my pain onto the page was going to be my healing medicine. Something would happen in that new terrible land of grief and I would need to write it down for my own edification and healing. I felt compelled and wrote with a nod to future widows and grievers who might benefit from what I was witnessing in my own life. Writing down the words, allowing myself to experience the complex and varied feelings of grief, truly helped soften the pain.
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