If I don't write to empty my mind, I go mad. ~Lord Byron
It feels so good to be writing again. I don't write about anything pivotal, or groundbreaking, or sometimes even interesting. But that is not the point, for me at least. Several years ago, I was on the phone with my brother, words cracking through tears, explaining how the stresses and hurts of life were taking me to the brink. In a way only a brother could know you, he asked, "Are you writing?" Now, at the time, there was a part of me that wanted to shout into the receiver... 'are you kidding me? Have you even been listening? I'm in the depths of despair! When your hands are bleeding from clinging to hope, WRITING is the LAST thing you can do!!' But he knows me, and he insisted that when I am not writing, or creating... I am simply not healthy. And it's true! "Don't work on your book if you don't want to. Don't blog if you can't. Write or draw or paint and throw it in the garbage for all I care, but you won't feel better until you do." I took his advice, and although the weight wasn't lifted as soon as pen met paper, I began strengthening and healing and held on until that storm passed.
That being said, you just can't force something like creativity, and sometimes despite it's restorative qualities, creative therapy eludes me. During the last year and a half I have gone through an extreme amount of pain and illness. That was, of course, on top of the almost comical doses in which I am fed stress and turmoil. As many know, I have an almost unbelievable ability to encounter the most protracted, exhausting, difficult situations possible on a nearly daily basis. I've grown to not even be surprised by how ludicrous things get. And because of that, in addition to the barrage of injuries and surgeries and pain and illness, I've almost been phoning in my life for many months. There was no amount of acrylic paint or overlock stitching or prose that would pull me back. Even Julia Cameron couldn't save me this time. I was drawn so thin that I couldn't even see clear to muster what life was requiring from me. And it wasn't relenting!
There was another talk I had with my brother many years ago about how the inability to "fold in on myself" when I really need to (because of kids/life responsibilities) really effects my natural healing cycle, and because I can't always "splint" the issue as I want to, I get way out of balance and recovery is slow. I've known this about myself since I was very young - that sometimes when I am fully spent and fully overwhelmed, the only thing that truly allows me to regenerate and heal is to eject for a while. But life doesn't allow that. Motherhood and relationships don't have sick days. So, I suck it up and usually do OK. Sometime during the last year and a half I finally allowed myself to draw the shades and fold up completely. It wasn't a conscious choice, more a survival instinct. I needed to conserve, to detach, to let go and sink into the blackness and just 'be' for a while. I was here... I carried out my duties and smiled when appropriate, but I wasn't really present. It sounds terrible, but it was such a relief that it was actually sort of wonderful, although I'm sure very hard on those around me. Problem is, having never fully allowed myself to succumb to that, I forgot I needed to come back out. oops. I've had a completely legitimate reason to stay bandaged (several, actually... and they just kept coming), but I think I allowed myself to use those excuses past their expiration. I do regret some of the stresses it's caused for others, and in some ways I've exaggerated my own suffering by doing it, but because I fully understand the mechanics of what was happening now... I don't care to waste time on feeling guilty. I've felt "off balance" for a long time now (for obvious reasons) but also because during that time I stopped a lot of the things that make me who I am. I am not usually a person who lets how I 'feel' dictate my energy or effort for the day, and I ALWAYS feel better when I'm serving others than CONserving and focusing on myself. When I got a minute to look at things from the outside of the cave again, it became very clear and returning to "myself" was almost instantaneous. I am quite sure that there are only a few people on the planet who would actually get ALL of the intricacies of what I just described, but that's OK. I was hurting, I was spent, I NEEDED to coast for a while,... but I feel so much better now, and feel a true calmness and clarity and confidence that is EXACTLY who I am. I feel more like myself than I have in a very long time, and it feels good! I'm sure it's probably strange or inappropriate to say this, but I've really missed myself. And now as I'm revisiting all of the things I love, things that make me feel alive and complete, it's giving me back that energy and desire and creativity that truly defines me.
My creative spark feels like the comforting smell of home after being away at war.
Writing and creating feels like nourishment, and laughter and a quick, clear mind have been ripe, sweet fruit as my reward.
That being said, you just can't force something like creativity, and sometimes despite it's restorative qualities, creative therapy eludes me. During the last year and a half I have gone through an extreme amount of pain and illness. That was, of course, on top of the almost comical doses in which I am fed stress and turmoil. As many know, I have an almost unbelievable ability to encounter the most protracted, exhausting, difficult situations possible on a nearly daily basis. I've grown to not even be surprised by how ludicrous things get. And because of that, in addition to the barrage of injuries and surgeries and pain and illness, I've almost been phoning in my life for many months. There was no amount of acrylic paint or overlock stitching or prose that would pull me back. Even Julia Cameron couldn't save me this time. I was drawn so thin that I couldn't even see clear to muster what life was requiring from me. And it wasn't relenting!
There was another talk I had with my brother many years ago about how the inability to "fold in on myself" when I really need to (because of kids/life responsibilities) really effects my natural healing cycle, and because I can't always "splint" the issue as I want to, I get way out of balance and recovery is slow. I've known this about myself since I was very young - that sometimes when I am fully spent and fully overwhelmed, the only thing that truly allows me to regenerate and heal is to eject for a while. But life doesn't allow that. Motherhood and relationships don't have sick days. So, I suck it up and usually do OK. Sometime during the last year and a half I finally allowed myself to draw the shades and fold up completely. It wasn't a conscious choice, more a survival instinct. I needed to conserve, to detach, to let go and sink into the blackness and just 'be' for a while. I was here... I carried out my duties and smiled when appropriate, but I wasn't really present. It sounds terrible, but it was such a relief that it was actually sort of wonderful, although I'm sure very hard on those around me. Problem is, having never fully allowed myself to succumb to that, I forgot I needed to come back out. oops. I've had a completely legitimate reason to stay bandaged (several, actually... and they just kept coming), but I think I allowed myself to use those excuses past their expiration. I do regret some of the stresses it's caused for others, and in some ways I've exaggerated my own suffering by doing it, but because I fully understand the mechanics of what was happening now... I don't care to waste time on feeling guilty. I've felt "off balance" for a long time now (for obvious reasons) but also because during that time I stopped a lot of the things that make me who I am. I am not usually a person who lets how I 'feel' dictate my energy or effort for the day, and I ALWAYS feel better when I'm serving others than CONserving and focusing on myself. When I got a minute to look at things from the outside of the cave again, it became very clear and returning to "myself" was almost instantaneous. I am quite sure that there are only a few people on the planet who would actually get ALL of the intricacies of what I just described, but that's OK. I was hurting, I was spent, I NEEDED to coast for a while,... but I feel so much better now, and feel a true calmness and clarity and confidence that is EXACTLY who I am. I feel more like myself than I have in a very long time, and it feels good! I'm sure it's probably strange or inappropriate to say this, but I've really missed myself. And now as I'm revisiting all of the things I love, things that make me feel alive and complete, it's giving me back that energy and desire and creativity that truly defines me.
My creative spark feels like the comforting smell of home after being away at war.
Writing and creating feels like nourishment, and laughter and a quick, clear mind have been ripe, sweet fruit as my reward.
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