It took me many years to find my voice in a group of people. Often I’d have something to contribute to a class discussion but was too shy or embarrassed to have all eyes burning into me.
My mouth would feel like I’d sucked a lemon. My heart would thump so loudly that my ears bulged with its incessant pounding. I’d lose my trail mid-sentence and then grope through my spilling mind to regain a semblance of coherence. The experience was infinitely hot-flash inducing—enough to keep my lips caulked shut throughout my school years. (Yes, I mean most graduate school classes too!)
Then I discovered that I truly enjoyed writing. And the bars to my prison surrendered.
Writing gives song to the caged bird in my chest. It releases regurgitated thoughts trapped in purgatory and permits them to be set free.
Committing my stream of consciousness to paper—or on screen, as the case may be—opens pathways. If anything, the discharge of endlessly churning mind chatter offers relief. My head noise finally unwinds and finds solid ground.
As my thoughts unplug and pour out, I can pluck the random meanderings of my mind and deliver order from chaos. The eruption into tangible form converts the tenacious into tenable. Once liberated, I can view each thought as though picking up an object for the first time. I can see that the thought itself is a substance that can be measured, limited and finite, and structured as a story with a beginning, middle, and an end.
On a page, it can be as boisterous, cluttered, and messy as needed. It can meander, spill over, and pillage the paper. As long as it’s not clogging me up any longer.
I am the silent observer of my own mind. And I have a voice.
I was remarking the very same thing earlier this morning! Well said – as usual. 🙂
That means a lot coming from you, Kim. I’m a fan of your writing too! xoxo
*blushing* Thanks! 🙂
Lovely post, Sarita. You are a vivid writer. Writing is an outlet for me too. One thing I often forget is that writing out a problem is such a great way to come to grips with it–sometimes when the world gets too full, I need to remember that. I once heard that sharing a difficult story means sharing out the load or burden. I think writing can help share the load too by discharging the chatter, as you call it.
It’s so true, Josie that “sharing a difficult story means sharing out the load.” I often feel that way. After I wrote about my childhood home, I felt a deep release. The pain didn’t feel as strong. Giving voice to our pleasure and our pain permits us to feel them in each of their elegant ways. Both necessary for growth and for our soul’s expansion. Thank you for identifying with me and for being a wonderful writer yourself. xoxo
You’re so lucky that you found your “voice”! And we’re all so lucky to be able to “hear” your messages! Keep writing! XOXOXOXO