The words are stuck again. It’s been a while since they erupted from me and it’s because I pushed away this side of me. When I start questioning and letting my thoughts to wonder, I heal myself by writing.
I feel chaos. I feel destruction. I feel the darkness but this time it’s not creeping up to me. I don’t let it. And because I don’t let it, the words get stuck. How ironic. When I let myself go deep down into the darkness, I can express myself a whole lot better. I can’t even find an adjective to this but simply using everyday words that are so un-descriptive.
What have I become? What do I want? Who am I? If I don’t know then how should I realise if I’m not on the right track? When I set my mind on something, I achieve it. I’m a getter. But when I don’t know what it is that I want to get it becomes tricky.
Should I just enjoy the natural flow of life or should I set my vision and clear up the image that is a big grey blur right now?
Finding yourself is a tricky little game that many of us tend to give up only after a couple of trials. What is it that we seek? What are we expecting to find?
I used to chase around this wild thought inside my head that the more I learn, the more I analyse, the quicker I can jump up and shout: “Got ya!”. Wrong. I eventually realised that I was looking in the wrong place all along…
Imagine trying to find your house keys inside your jacket pockets when you actually remember (you know) that you left them on the kitchen table. You locked yourself out, you did this to yourself. Despite knowing deep within that your keys are hiding inside your home, you still desperately want to believe that you’ll find them in one of those pockets. Frustration kicks in gradually, you’re shaking that poor jacket, rolling your eyes while exhaling loudly. Then you suddenly come to a full stop. You let acceptance climb through your system. Slowing down your breathing, making your pupils come back to their regular size. The panic evaporates, the shivering stops and the corners of your lips slowly start to curl upwards. You sigh out a genuine laugh.
The truth finally hits you and that moment, right there, makes you remember where to really look for. Yes, the door still might be locked, but why haven’t you noticed that open window next to it until just now? Your keys have been inside all this time and instead of finding a way to get there, you had a tantrum on the outside. Am I trying to create a metaphor here? Perhaps, but I let you decide.
All I want to say to you is this: grab that key and open that freaking door finally, will you?
Unspoken words rushing through my entire being. I feel them exploding letter by letter as they travel through all parts of my body. They are making my muscles twitch, my spine strengthen up, my skin itching and my breathing to become shallow.
Exhale. Breath out these unspoken words, just let it all out without having to form a whisper. In-out. In-out. I am fully alive with the newly recognised truth that has been burning inside me for centuries, seeking a way to erupt. And when the explosion of truth happened, what’s next? I’m thinking again but this time it’s not “me” thinking. It’s everything I know is thinking all together, in a peaceful harmony.
Breathing in the unspoken words, listening to the sound of uniting. Breathing out the forgotten memories, listening to the sound of recognition. In-out. In-out.
Unleashed secrets that were supposed to be found. Just exhale that last letter, let it out then let it go to where it belongs. Out.
I started my day telling myself that today I will remember who I am. I know who I am and who I was. I will remember what I truly want. All day I was full of energy, I managed to get done what I usually would in 2-3 days (work-wise). Then at the end of my working day I felt a little mentally drained but I was still buzzing. Feeling calm and content. When I came home, I poured myself a glass of wine to enjoy it in my little garden while writing about my future, finalising my life goals. That’s when it hit me. Hard.
A roller-coaster of emotions. As I was forming each letter with my pen, I started remembering feelings. Excitement, disappointment, pain, hope, gratitude, extreme joyous happiness. Empathy for everything. Calmness. I grabbed another notebook to write about this intense experience. But how do I express such magnificent emotions? I simply can’t shove them into words and sentences.
It feels like if a tall building has just collapsed and the pieces have fallen into their “right” place. They created a brand new building that is so ancient at the same time, I’ve been looking at it for centuries. I lived inside this building, I just haven’t recognised it until now. From the deepest parts of my heart, I wish you dear reader to find your old-new building as well. The fact that you are reading this is already evidence that you are on the right path to discover it.
Throw away all the directions you’ve been given by others. No one else can lead you to this place. With that said, remain faithful. Have faith in yourself, your instincts, that feeling in your gut. Don’t chase it though. It will chase you instead when you’re ready and truly want it. I am now holding the key to the front door, so I say let’s step inside, shall we?
I have moments when a strong urge to write is burning inside me, yet I cannot form a cohesive sentence. I know that I’m not the only one who faces this frustration occasionally. The question is: what do you do when this stubborn block hits your brain? Personally, I carry on writing and I end up with a hard-to-decipher, frustrated mumble. Like this one:
Delete. Type. Delete, delete, delete. Start again. I have something very important to tell you, yet it doesn’t want to become a form of words. It burns my soul with its white fire and tightens my throat when I’m attempting to say it out loud. A heavy exhale. Yes that helps temporarily, let me do it again. Dizziness kicks in; well at least my physical symptoms are now in line with my emotional ones. Start typing again. My fingertips are hitting the keyboard at such a rapid speed that my skin is burning up. Sloooow down, this is not making sense. Delete, delete.
New paragraph. Organise the tornado of thoughts. I need to understand where to start and why do I want to start. Do I want to start? Stop confusing yourself even more, no questions. Just type. Two more sentences are formed, let me read them back. Doesn’t this sound miserable? Was that another question?! Hush now consciousness, this truth inside my soul needs to be born. It needs to be shared with you but firstly I need to admit it to myself and stop running away from it. This is not a rabies ridden dog trying to bite my arm off but this is…delete, delete.
The realisation hits so hard on my chest that I struggle to breathe for a few seconds. I do not know what it is that I must tell myself. It all remains the playhouse of Confusion.
Words. Letters. Some strange lines scribbled on paper. Or they are flickering back from the screen of your electrical device. Thought processes materialised into the physical world. Touch it – you can’t feel it.
Why would you feel the written words? You see them, yes. But how can you create something that when you touch you don’t feel it? Although when you read them back, the whirlpool of emotions will start stirring. Can we really put our feelings into the forms of letters and dots and question marks? When you read my letter-chain, does the same feeling kick you in the stomach as the one I had to fight off? I don’t think so.