A string of words

One of the best advice I ever got was to write down my thoughts when things felt overwhelming. Initially I could not see the benefit of this. Why would I do this? How could it help me? How would that give me any answers? These were questions I asked myself.

At the time I knew I could no longer express how I felt to others. Not because others did not care but I started to feel like I was a burden. How many times could I repeat the same lament? How many times could people bear to listen?

It is strange when all you want is to feel happy but you just don’t. When you know you need to “snap out of it” but you can’t. I knew I was stuck and I felt like a broken record stuck on repeat. So I stopped saying how I felt. I stopped trying to talk about it. I could not pretend to say things were OK because I just did not have the energy to even do that. I stopped.

With no answers I started to write. Longer pieces, shorter pieces, letters addressed to no-one. Sometimes I pretended I was talking to a friend. Sometimes I just wrote down a mass of words jumbled together. I did not receive any answers but somehow it lessened the tightness in my chest. Piece by piece what I wrote down lighted the burden. Maybe it was because I could be brutally honest. Not having to take into consideration how others might feel. Not having to think about not wanting to worry anyone. I just wrote.

How I felt then and how I feel today is vastly different. Today I look at life and smile. I have a curious positive outlook forward. There will always be down days of course but in general I feel pretty damn good.

I am not trying to say that writing down how I felt back then made me all happy now. There are so many things that made that happening but I am not writing about those changes today. What I am trying to say is that writing down my inner most feelings and thoughts when I was at my lowest helped me getting through it.

Recently, for the first time in a long time, I actually dared to look at those entries that I wrote back then. It was both a scary and emotional experience. I had forgotten how low I felt. I am glad that I once again can put them back in the box. Not forgotten but eased out of mind with a few lessons learned.

Sometimes a simple advice can make all the difference. An advice I will be eternally grateful for.

A weekend gone past fast…

It is Sunday afternoon once again and I sit here nursing my cup of tea. This seems to have turned into a ritual of sorts on Sundays – a cup of tea, music in the background and writing posts surrounded by my two cats.

The weekend has flown past once again. It has been a good weekend. Friday was a roller-coaster. A lot going on in my head and a busy day. I was exhausted on Friday evening.

Saturday was, for lack of a better word, a cathartic day. I wrote and wrote and wrote. Posts of all descriptions spewed out. A few I might publish in days to come. I just needed to write. Yes, talking helps but sometimes I just cannot express myself fully. I do not even know what to say half the time. Writing helps me understand what I am feeling. There are moments when I sit down to write a post and I end up writing something totally different to what I intended to. Those pieces are from the very core of my soul. They come unbidden and honest. I also realized that this emotional roller-coaster is not something that will be OK on commando. I’ve tried to push it away and tell myself that all is good and even though it is OK at times, I am not there yet. I only fool myself. I will have to give it time. So I’m taking one step at a time and it is getting better. I do not expect everyone around me having to deal with my shit all the time. So I write.

Saturday evening was spent in the company of friends. With Caipiroska’s, glasses of wine, lively discussions and laughter – an evening cathartic for the soul in a fabulous way. Maybe not so cleansing for my liver though… but worth it.

So now I am back to Sunday. It will be a relaxing one. Maybe there will be room for some writing or maybe I will just read a book. I’ll find out.

Still blogging a year later…

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I sit here looking at my draft posts – post filled with pain, with longing, with sadness, with love, with thoughts immensely private. Pieces of writing that I’ll never publish. Some are old, some are new. I read them and I’m rocked back. They scare me with their intensity. Where did they come from?

I started writing this blog a little over a year ago now. The whole blogging… oh whom am I kidding… the whole writing thing made me VERY nervous. I’ve never felt that I’m a good writer. God knows my essays in school sucked! So writing in such a public fashion was very daunting. It has been an interesting journey.

With no formal writing experience and with no idea on what to actually write, I just started to write. For better or worse. There has been plenty of times when I cringed over what I wrote. Other times I have not been able to stop writing. Then there has been times when the dry-spells have been very real and no matter what I tried, nothing would come forth.

Looking back, there are some posts that I find horrid and then some that I am proud off. Then there are those pieces… This whole blogging business seems to have awoken something in me that I never knew existed. Strings of words that speak of my innermost feelings. Feelings that I cannot vocalize but that only come out in writing. Maybe one day I will be brave enough to post them.

I just write whatever pops up in my head. I do edit some but mainly, what I write is what I think about in that moment.  Which explains the amount of depressing posts about my messy life lately. Sorry about that… bear with me, I promise I will get back to somewhat funny or thought-worthy posts again as soon as I can.

I am still amazed that people read my shit AND that some even like it enough to continue reading or even comment on it. I have met some amazing people via this blog in the last year and THAT is almost the best thing about it. My life would be a poorer life without you.

So here’s to another year of writing (and feverent praying that my muse will stop watching soppy movies and actually come up with some good ideas to dazzle us all with…).

Most of all, here’s to all of you who read my thoughts. Thank you.

Christmas card writers block…

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Ugghhh it is that time of year again. Time to write Christmas cards en masse. Every year it is the same story, I buy the cards and might even remember to buy stamps (if I am very lucky) and then I forget to put pen to paper (well, card). Until… the first texts start dropping in asking for my address and it hits me that it can only mean that someone is busy getting those cards sorted and it also means that I really need to send one to them as well. I know…it is that whole guilt trip thing. Then I forget again…and then the first cards drop into the letterbox…arrgghhh!

So here I am. Sitting down, have dedicated time to write these damn Christmas cards and what happens? I can’t think of anything witty or half-way intelligent to write at all…. if I write “Merry Xmas and happy new year, hope you’ll have a good one” again I do not know what I will do. How fun is that to read in a card… so instead I am blogging (read: whining) about my lack of inspiration.

Sigh.

OK, will now make an effort and get these cards done BEFORE Christmas actually arrives. Let’s hope the postman doesn’t get stuck anywhere…