I started writing again, many times this year. Trying to restart my brain with a private diary, leaving thought post-its for myself, typing up a paragraph in my head while in the shower, reading more, even speaking about it with my therapist. I thought the crave to write will re-appear itself. Maybe something would prompt it, maybe the absence of life (#lockdownlife) or boredom would do the trick. So far, the only thing helping is forcing the keyboard or the pen down the paper. Whatever it may come out of it, at least it’s something.
Last years changed my writing process. I used to start with a clear point, building my story backwards from the last sentence. Now… that feeling of clarity is gone. The control and power I used to hold over words in my head had transformed into silence. The thing is, I tolerate messiness only when it comes to my house. But mess in my head frightens me. Free flow scares and overwhelms me. What do I even want to say? What if that thought won’t come out as planned? I accept flaws in everything, except for my thoughts and actions.
I’ve spent years learning about controlling my mind. Preparing scenarios, repeating and rehearsing situations to make them more comfortable. I thought control will bring confidence. When I’ll have everything under control, I’ll feel comfortable submerging into the unknown, the uncontrollable. When I’ll control my immediate surroundings, I’ll do better out of it. And while it worked for a bit, gaining control actually meant a slow, total close down. … When the world will stop spinning, I’ll have time to figure it out. Sadly, real life doesn’t work like this.
At one point last year, I think I’ve fried my brain with this logic. And while I did acknowledge something had to change, the road is still long and sometimes, I feel like I’m re-learning how to function. Real life, in all its glory, should be raw, imperfect and vulnerable. Intense, scary and even cringy. And sometimes it’s just nonsense. But that’s okay. I used to think writing was my kind of therapy, yet the deeper in actual therapy I get, the more I see how I used it as an enabler, to further form my curated state of mind.
And while typing up a well-structured paragraph is still wonderful, life shouldn’t be restricted to only well-structured moments. ♥
